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THE PRESS CF 

BEN F. BILITER, 

HUNTINGTON, IND. 



shrCrwVV arrv^TiTJWJ. 



HeURS IMPR0VED 



POEMS 



yBY 



J. D. MERRIMHN 




HUNTINGTON, IND 

MERRIMAN BROTHERS 

I 89 I 






r? 

^ 



COPYRIGHT 

By J. D. MKRRIMAN. 

1S91. 



J. D. Merriman's Poetical Writings: 

Wilbur," and "Summer Pastimes and 
Winter Pleasures," 

WILL SOON BE READY FOR THE PRESS. 



CONTENTS. 



VARIED THEMES. 

Introduction . . . . . . i 

Life ....... 4 

The Indian . . .17 

The Sunshine ...... 23 

Don't Fear a Big No . . . .25 

The Drummer's Storj- ..... 27 

To a Violet . . . .31 

Ode to the Rain ..... 32 

True ....... 35 

A Ueautiful Picture ..... 42 

Uncle Hiram, to the Eoy who Mocked at Him . . 47 

Uncle Hiram, to the Truant Boy ... 51 

POEMS ON vSPECIAL OCCASIONS. 

The Separation . . . . . -59 

The Class Poem ..... 65 

School Day Greeting . . . . .76 

Time ....... 80 

THE SEASONS. 

Spring ....... 87 

Summer ...... 97 

Autumn ....... 107 

An Autumn Day . . . . . 117 

Winter ....... 122 

OTHER THEMES. 

The Dutchman and the Gun .... 135 

Uncle Hiram, to the Boj' who Swears . . . t39 

Uncle Hiram, to the Boy who Chews ... 143 

Uncle Hiram, to the Boy who Drinks . . . i47 

The Soldier Bey . . . . • 151 

Death .....•• 171 



DEDICATION. 



IN MEMORY OF THE YEAR iS88. 

THESE POEMS ARE RESPECTFULIvY 

DFCDICATED TO MY CLASS 

MATES AND FRIENDS. 



INTRODUCTION. 
To him who has a thoughtful mind, 
For prose and poetry inclined, 
We furnish here a modest train 
Of thought, profusely from the brain, 
And hope that it will call some scene 
Of former days to come between 
His sorrows and the little time 
He takes to read this humble rhyme. 
Indeed, the minds of men are made, 
The fields of knowledge to invade. 
They move in channels much the same 
To reach the temples of high fame. 
Where countless lights have vainly burned. 
While some by greater force were turned 
Into those mighty rolling flames, 
That brought high honors to their names; 



2 Hours Improved. 

That spread before them far and wide, 

Unbounded glory on the tide 

Of public trust, and public will, 

Where faith and hope are resting still/ 

Now we, to all the human race. 

In every clime and every place 

Will give you rest for half an hour, 

If you will seek some shady bow'r 

With 1)ook in hand, bound to peruse 

This product of an untrained muse, 

It never could in any age 

Content the poet or the sage, 

To put a padlock on the brain 

For they were born to entertain 

The old, the young, the rich, the poor. 

Relieve distress and evil cure. 

If other friends were hard to please, 

They pleased themselves with perfect ease. 

Then patient reader, leave your care. 

And spend what time you have to spare 



Introductio)i. 

lu full enjoymeut of this book, 

With happiness in every look. 

Our anxious aim is, here, to please 

The lover of delightful ease. 

And all those souls to reading born, 

At joj-ful eve, or luckless morn, 

And those who long for words of love. 

Unchanging as the God above. 

We importune you one and all, 

Let not despair augment the fall. 

Of brighter hopes, which buoy you up, 

To drink from pleasure's brimming cup. 

Just leave the past with all its woes. 

Its chilling winds and freezing snows, 

And drink the author's great delight, 

Which now appears before your sight. 



Hours Improved. 



LIFE. 
I. 

Who knows the secret art that gives us life, 

Or Ists us live through fields of blood and strife, 

While all around compauions faint and fall, 

In their assault on time's unl)roken wall. 

From childhood's cradle where our minds begin 

To act in concert with our souls within, 

We grow each moment by unchanging laws. 

But of our growth no man has found the cause. 

We help promote the welfare of the race 

Or iu its fall must see our own disgrace. 

But childhood ends and leaves a stronger growth. 

Childhood and youth; we look and smile at both. 

11. 
What fancies tend to drive the youthful brain, 
Like untried .ships upon a storm-tossed main, 



Life. 

This way aud that until the time has come, 

For reason in its folds to find a home, 

And reason at the judgment door of youth, 

Unlocks her treasure with the key of truth, 

Since truth should be the watch-word of the young, 

A constant guide for every mother's tongue. 

III. 
The duties that surround u$ year by year, 
Will waft our minds into another sphere, 
Where youthful idols that were incomplete, 
Will bloom in honors rich and full, replete 
With fragrance by intelligence unbound. 
And left where superstition once was found. 

IV. 
How many days we spend in weary toil! 
How oft from patent duties we recoil! 
How much, when truth would wound a noble heart, 
We long for falsehood to assume her part! 
But then we must not let a thought so base 
Good precepts from our anxious minds efface. 



6 Hours Improved. 

Indeed we need a brighter, fairer name 
To lead us onward to the heights of fame, 
Than we can gain by overlooking truth, 
In minor actions that abound in youth. 

V. 
Now, let us step into the open air 
Of right and scent the fragrance resting there! 
On looking forth before our wond'ring eyes, 
We see the beauties of existence rise. 
And in their splendor there is much to know 
Which would alleviate oppressing woe. 

VI. 
Swift moments really constitute a day; 
Mouth after month is moving on its way; 
A few short years upon this rolling ball, 
Our souls must answer to dame nature's call; 
Our frames again must crumble into dust, 
Ivike iron bars that yield to time and rust. 
Yet naught is lost whatever be our fate 
Let this proud thought our parting souls elate. 



Life. 

Though every atom nioviug ou its way. 
May moulder iuto cold aud sileut clay, 
lu countless living forms it may be found 
Before old time shall check its useful round. 
Then let us strive to do to every man, 
That which is good and aid him if we can. 

VII 

When evil comes with her uncanny hand. 

To conquer men and devastate the laud. 

She touches all and leaves not those alone 

In royal purple on a kingdom's throne. 

She drags her victims from their high estate, 

Aud brings fell ruin uuto small and great. 

Those who are poor she makes more wretched still. 

All meu alike must bend before her wUl. 

We hear her knock and in the dead of night 
Our fortui-ies plume their wings and take to flight. 

In tongues of flame and wreathes of sable smoke 
Misfortune gives to us her deadly stroke, 



8 Hours Improved. 

And leaves us to the rough stern hand of fate, 

Whose unrelenting anger we berate. 

Yet in our grief we see worse wretches still 

Who ijow with resignation to the will 

Of Him whose hand we see in every shade 

That tints the leaves and blossoms He has made. 

Then let our hearts be ready when distress 

Shall come to us in all her wretchedness, 

To lift a hand to stay the grief and pain 

Which sin has set on nature's broad domain. 

VIII. 

There's none so poor but that their hands may aid 

The fallen wretch whom passion has betrayed 

And led into the depths of conscious sin, 

Which makes a wreck of what he might have been. 

But others who are striving to be true, 

Sink lower as misfortune comes anew; 

Kind spirits, which the faithlessness of friends 

Have led to ruin, to secure their ends. 



Life. 

Aud as they slowly siuk before their eyes, 
A mocking laugh engenders dumb surprise. 
Such need encouragement to cheer them on, 
Aud fire anew the courage almost gone, 
A look, a smile, a word or helping hand 
May place their feet upon the solid laud. 
Would you refuse a look or word of cheer, 
Which gives them hope and banishes their fear? 
With hope their courage may revive again, 
And find new pleasures with their fellow-men. 



IX. 



We wander forth into the open field. 
Where every plant has carefully concealed 
The germ of life, remote from sight, to build 
New structures when this mission is fulfilled. 
The morning air that whistles through the trees. 
Brings show'rs of leaves that dance upon the breeze. 
The sparkling dews that on the grasses lie. 
Reflect the flashing beams of early day; 



JO Hours Improved. 

Among the trees are flocks of tiiiy birds, 
The plain is covered with its grazing herds; 
The joyous songsters, warble forth their lays, 
To smiling nature and to nature's praise; 
The cattle on the plain with pleasure feed, 
Oblivious to mankind's most daring deed; 
All nature smiles to see this sweet content 
Upon the earth and in the firmament. 

X. 

Eternal music rolls from sphere to sphere, 
And tones of melody acquaint the ear 
With ringing phrases of unchanging love, 
That rules the universe and worlds above, 
While planets, bound in perfect harmony. 
Keep pace with Heav'n's surprising minstrelsy, 
Whifth is too grand for man to comprehend 
Till death has brought him to a favored end 
Of mortal sorrow and of earthly woe — 
His born companions here below, 



Life. 1 1 

Where grief and paiu afflict the living frame, 

And men with patience bear the stamp of shame, 

Which place upon weak mortal's withered sense 

The fear of some eternal recompense, 

That they must give for yielding to desire 

In which their hopes, their loves, and lives expire. 

XL 

If I were gifted like the Roman gods, 
Or held the magic wands and mystic rods, 
That fabled priests and prophets used to hold. 
All things I touched would yield a hundred fold. 
To bless the faithful hand and thankful heart 
That gives to saving grace a better part. 
No tale of love where lovers prove untrue, 
With scores of trials that their hearts pass through. 
Would reach the ear, or show its vicious face 
Among the crowds that laugh at foul disgrace. 
But I would pause to wave my magic wand. 
And peace and happiness should rule the land; 



12 Hours Liiprovcd. 

All maids that loved with lovers would be blest; 

No jealous fears should e'er disturb their rest; 

No hopeful lover would be made to feel 

That he had lost an augel like Lucile; 

No houest man or maid should ever die 

For want of love my magic could supply. 

No husbands e'er would turn from faithful wives 

To ruin all the sweetness of their lives, 

By sipping at the sparkling cup of wine, 

In which the frightful serpents of the vine 

Are hissing poverty and ills and death 

At every expiration of their breath. 

No pestilence or dread catastrophe 

vShould come to men on land or on the sea; 

No foul diseases should attack the brain 

To ruin hopes to which their hearts attain; 

No evil thoughts should dwell in human minds, 

And grpce would kiss the lips that beauty finds; 

All would be sunshine, peace, and love and rest, 

And earth would be a dwelling for the blest; 



Life. 13 

If such a subtle pow'r to me were given 

This earth would be to man a matchless heav'n. 

XII. 

We turn once more to earth and look around 

To see what beauties on her breast are found. 

The little 1)rook that chatters ga5dy by. 

Is kissed by gentle breezes as they fly, 

O'er meadows to the fields of ripening grain, 

Where they will pause to kiss the stream again. 

While gazing thus, with flushed and steaming face 

We long to flnd some cool and grassy place, 

Where resting on a soft green mound of earth, 

Our thoughts confound the minds that give them birth, 

As in deep cogitations of the brain, 

We visit fields of sadness o'er again; 

Theii as our hearts, once more with joj-ous bound, 

Leap to the beauty that we see around, 

All nature in her sweet tranquility 

Brings thoughts of peace and immortality. 



14 Hours Improved. 

XIII. 

Life is too short to long lie idling here, 
Since -.ve must work with heart and soul sincere, 
If we would hope to gain a noted place. 
Or make a name which time cannot efface. 
From tablets that record the deeds of men 
Nor perish with the products of the pen. 

XIV. 

The work and pain which strew our rugged path 

With bitter thorns, are emblems of the wrath 

Of outraged nature, and the lot of man. 

And were ordained when first the world began; 

At least some men advance this knowing creed 

That God has planned and man mnst do the deed. 

If this be true, our own poor wills are bound 

By that of God, who foreordained the ground 

On which we build our characters. 

Have we no plans? Have we no right to choose? 

Is God to blame for all that men may lose? 



Life. 15 



Why is it that our journe3S in this life 

With unexampled accidents are rife? 
On every side misfortunes here abound, 
And awful scenes of dire distress are found. 

XV. 

We must be ready when we hear the call 
To drive our foemen from the yielding wall. 
Ivct no such doctrine, — product of some fool- 
Invade the precincts of a better school. 
But drive it out and let the truth prevail; 
Stand firm against all foes that ma}' assail, 
And when our victory is fairly won, 
Will not our labors be but just begun? 
Weep not o'er what is past; the future comes 
To bring us peace or strange fatality. 
Will battles with the endless round of years 
Be won more eas}^ by a burst of tears? 
Oh no, but tears and sorrows are not vain, 
In penitence, to wash away the stain 



1 6 Hours Improved. 

That sill has stamped upon an erring soul 
Which God has taken under His control. 

XVI. 

There is much good in this short life of ours, 

If we but strive to gain it, through the pow'rs 
That God has given us in thoughts divine, 
Repelling wrong to which our hearts incline. 
Then cultivate the mind for future gain, 
And fit it for an everlasting reign. 

XVII. 

Ivike waters bursting from an unknown source, 
The pow'rs of education lends us force, 
To do our work while others faint away 
At sight of aught foreboding great dela3\ 
Then let us toil that when we sweetly sleep. 
Our race will find a harvest here to reap; 
Not one that tortures men with endless pain, 
But such as brings the wealth of goldtu grain. 



The Indian. 17 



THE INDIAN. 

This land was the home of the red man, 
The red man who roamed in the wood; 

His heart was inflamed by fierce passion, 
"Which songht its destrnctiou in blood. 

The pale-face had come to his wigwam; 

Had wounded, insnlted, and slain; 
Had frightened his tribe from the hillside, 

And he had opposed him in vain. 

That man who has love for his kindred; 

That man wi h a patriot's heart; 
That man who has love for his children; 

That man who has cunning and art, 



1 8 Hours Improved. 

Will staud by his rights and defeud them, 
Whoever may come as his foes, 

With hatred, resent all intrusion; 

With vengeance destroy as he goes. 

His insults will rouse his whole being 
When comrads shall fall in the fight, 

Destruction shall be a sweet pastime, 
The midnight attack, his delight. 

If some one more might}' than he is, 

Should come to his home to destroy. 

What wretch would not seek to defend it. 
And slay his oppressors with joy? 

How fierce and relentless, his hatred 

Would strike at the heart ot his foe; 

By ambush and stratagem waiting. 
His vengeance to wreak at a blow. 



The Indian. ig 

The red inau, with similar vengeance, 

Planned, waited ayd watched for the white, 

And slaughtered his foe in the cornfield, 
Or tortured with savage delight. 

He felt no compunctions of conscience; 

His hand was defending his home; 
He fought for the sake of his children, 

And forests o'er which he might roam. 

He tried to preserve from destruction, 

The woods the Great Spirit had made, 
Which red men could hunt in forever, 

With no one to break its vast shade. 

But over the waves of the ocean 

His enemies came in great crowds; 
Their ships were like monster white seabirds. 

With wings made of canvas and shrouds. 



20 /lours Improved. 

They hewed down the forest with axes; 

They frightened the game from the land. 
They cheated and wronged and defrauded; 

They slaughtered with merciless hand. 

Thtn how can we blame the poor savage, 
Whose love is as strong as our own; 

Whose home and whose country's destruction 
Had caused him so many a groan ? 

The white man has roused up his passions, 
And trampled his rights in the main; 

Insulted his friends and his kinsmen; 

His veugeance must wipe out the stain. 

O why should he 'scape from his vengeance, 
Whofe htart he has turned into steel, 

15}' acts of such cruel oppression. 
That even a savatje should feel. 



The Indian. 2i 

lie rises in anger to smite liim, 

But weapous and skill are too weak; 
The white man has captured his strongholds, 

And safety in flight he must seek. 

Destruction and death are his portion; 

His race is diminishing fast; 
A fragment and only a fragment, 

Retains its revenge to the last. 

The white man increases in nnml)ers, 

Is master of laud and of sea; 
His ships are the servants of commerce; 

The red man, what glory has he? 

No glory, no home, no enjoyment, 

No thought but to brood o'er his wrongs, 

Until his existence has sunken, 

And died with the last of his songs. 



22 Hours Improved. 

His people, like thousands before tbeui, 
Are swept from the face of the earth, 

His heritage ouly a portion, 

Of that which M'as his at his birth. 



Farewell to the race of the red mau! 

Farewell to his forests of game! 
Farewell to the smoke of his wigwam! 

Farewell to his home and his name! 



To The Sunshine. 



TO THE vSUNSHINE. 



Beautiful sunshine! Thou paintest the land, 

With hand that is skillful, 

And mind that is willful, 

With eye that is sure. 

And soul that is pure; 
Rich are the treasures that fall from thy hand. 

Over the meadows comes stealing thy light, 

Neglecting no duty. 

But painting with beauty, 

The great and the small. 

On which it may fall. 
Decking Dame Nature with penciliugs bright. 



24 Hours Improved. 

Ease aud oppression to Ihee are the same; 

No trouble you borrow; 

No soul-rending sorrow; 

No sharp pangs of pain, 

To torture the vain. 
Painting aud painting regardless of fame. 

Fall on us gently, O beautiful beam. 

Thy brightness gives pleasure. 

And like a rich treasure, 

We welcome thy light. 

Well knowing thy might, 
While gliding o'er mountain, meadow aud stream. 



Don'' t Fear a Big No. 25 



DONT FKAR A BIG "NO." 

A no is a small word, but oue that we need, 
Yet thoughtlessly spoken by some 

Who know not the evils to which it may lead, 
Or ultimate pleasure to come. 

In years of my youth, by memory viewed, 

I see a sweet girl of my age, 
Toward whom I refrained from everything rude. 

And tried to appear like a sage. 

Her glances induced me to study and learn; 

I worked for her love but in vain; 
My thoughts and intentions she seemed to discern; 

My favors she paid with disdain. 



26 Hours Improved. 

As years passed away and my love grew more warm, 

I asked for her company, home, 
A thunderuig "no!" shook my frame like a storm 

Shakes the salt sea billows to foam. 



Rejected and sullen I passed from her side 

To enter new studies with zeal, 
Concealing the wound she had given my pride. 

Though ni}' love I could not conceal. 

A boy I was then; a man I became, 
With views of a far higher life; 

vSo thanks to the no that prevented her name 
From blending with mine as my wife. 



The DruDDiie)' s Story 



THE DRUMMER'S STORY. 

The night was wild; the wind was cold, 
As o'er our heads the tempest rolled, 
And weary men began it last 
To seek a shelter from the blast. 
I chanced to be awhile delayed. 
By rush of business in my trade. 
And thus I missed the evening train, 
That sped across the grassy plain, 
Then turning from the tempest's din 
I sought for shelter in an inn. 
When shown a room I doffed my clothes, 
And quickly sought a night's repose. 
The midnight hours were passed in sleep, 
And still we lay in slumbers deep, 
Until the near approach of dawn. 
When blackest darkness had withdrawn. 



28 Hovrs Improved. 

Then we were 'wakened from our dreams, 
By frightful howls and fearful screams 
Which seemed to come from far below, 
With accents of the deepest woe. 
Sometimes, to us, the breeze would waft 
A laugh, and 'twas a fiend that laughed. 
'Tvvas followed by a lengthened howl 
More heinous than the screeching owl; 
And then a long and lusty call 
Was answered by a painful scjuall; 
Sometimes the cries seemed choked in blood. 
Then rising like a mighty flood. 
Assailed our ears and swept before 
What little s^nse we had in store. 
So leaping from my downy bed 
Into the spacious hall I sped. 
Wild eyes appeared on every side 
At sight of which I loudly cried, 
"Where are those cries of wild despair?" 
A dozen voices answered, "where?" 



TJte Druimncf s Story. 29 

But none could tell, as eyes to eyes 

I^ooked forth their horror and surprise. 

Then rose a man of giant form, 

Whose voice was heard above the storm, 

'"Tis surely murder! Come with me 

And let us solve this uiystery." 

lie led us forth. We marched with care 

Adowii that long and winding stair. 

The building shook beneath our tread, 

And every heart was filled with dread, 

We halted when we reached a door 

That opened to the basement floor. 

E=icli face was white with mortal fear, 

As thoughts of friends each held most dear, 

Came crowding to his anxious mind. 

None cared to make another move, 

Lest that one step might fatal prove. 

But as we halted stern and pale 

We heard a most terrific wail. 

Again it came both loud and shrill. 



30 Hours Improved. 

Then for a moment all was still. 
The whisper flew to all that we 
Should make a dash within to see, 
What caused those cries of agony. 
With loud consent and angry roar 
We dashed against the oaken door, 
And as it yielded with a crash 
We saw, — the cooks preparing hash. — ■ 



To a \ lolct. 3 1 



TO A VIOLET. 



Poor violet, lift up your head! 

Some ruthless fool has trod you down, 
Thus all the beauty of fair earth, 

Is crushed by Nature's augry frowu. 

But yesterday your coat of blue 

Took its reflection from the sky, 

To day your brilliant hue is gone; 
Your beauty only came to die. 

Why did you live in colors bright? 

What was your mission here on earth? 
To fall again and form the soil 

Whose richness proves your modest worth. 



32 Hours Improved. 



ODE TO THE RAIN. 

Thou gentle rain, who nioisteneth the earth, 

And coaxeth countless flovv'rs into birth, 

What are \.\\y noble virtues? Who can tell? 

Since thou concealelh part within each cell 

That renders strong, the mountain's matchless pine. 

And starts new shoots upon the climbing vine. 

The brooks that sparkle down the mountain side. 

Due portions of thy boundless wealth divide 

Among the grass and plants and mosses rare, 

Which start with eagerness thy gifts to share. 

The pansy, rising from her dewy bsd, 

Supports one drop upon her faultless head, 

And from that drop a ray of liquid light 

Gleams for a moment on the passing sight. 

The shrubs which bloom with rich and varied hue, 

Refreshed and brightened by the morning dew, 



Ode to the Rain. 33 

Require thy aid to paint eacli transient leaf, 
AlthougU its beauty on the earth is brief, 
Like joys that fill the throbbing heart to-da\', 
To-morrow all may fade and pass away. 
The cataract that leaps from yonder rock, 
And shakes the earth with its tremendous shock, 
From thee alone can have that potent source, 
Which gives its torrent such unbounded force. 
The hill, the rock, the wood and deep ravine. 
The flowing brook, that leaps and plays between, 
Depend upon the bounty of thy hand. 
To scatter beautj^ o'er a smiling land. 
Behold the fruitage of a garden rare, 
Supported by thy watchfulness and care. 
Thy blessings— gifts of more than mortal hands — 
Would change to Eden, all the desert lands. 
Each grain of sand that marks a desert shore 
Would take its share from thy most fruitful store 
And bring to life its portion of a flower 
That well might grace the fauc}' of an hour. 



34 Hours Improved. 

The beasts of prey, that roam the dripping wood, 
The giaut fish that swim the rolling flood, 
The stately eagle, who with watchful eye. 
Soars from his ayry in the azure sky, 
The creeping insects of the fields below, 
Unconscious of the gifts thy hands bestow. 
And mankind, still more gifted than them all, 
Derive their substance from thy guiltless fall. 



True. 35 



TRUE. 



He came to school with full intent 
His time and talents should be spent 
In gleaning from the friendly page 
The wisdom of the present age; 
But lest his passions should betray 
Or lead his eager thoughts away, 
He made resolve within his mind, 
That he would shun all woman kind. 
— A vow most easy to foreswear, 
When once acquainted with the fair — 
He kept his pledge for many days, 
And tried to shun in countless ways, 
But two dark eyes look in his own 
And these had pow'r enough alone 
To win esteem and gain his heart. 
Nor could he for a moment part 



36 Hours Improved. 

His thoughts from those bewitching eyes 
Whose glance his own had learned to prize. 
It seemed to him a hand divine, 
Had led him victim to the shrine, 
Of ouepnre soul, upright and true, 
When faith, indeed, is kept by few. 
An unseen force was in her air, 
Which proved her good as she was fair. 

II. 

The summer fled and autumn came. 

And still their friendship seemed the same. 

One night while seated side by side. 

He gently sought her for his bride; 

vSpoke of his love with manly tone 

And asked to claim her as his own. 

With most becoming maiden grace. 

She stole a glance into his face, 

A look that only told too well 

The love her tongue refused to tell. 



7; ue. 37 



III. 



The}' lingered o'er their music long, 
But scarcely thought about the song. 
They often met as lovers do 
And vowed their hearts would e'er be true 
And when her lips he fondly pressed 
Each claimed to love the other best. 
And she would bend her willing ear 
To catch the words she loved to hear. 

IV. 

Then came the time for them to part; 
He pressed her to his beating heart; 
She vowed again to share his life 
And be to him a faithful wife. 
He went his waj' into the world, 
To battle with the strife that whirled 
Along his rough and untrod way, 
Which led him on from day to day. 



38 Hours Improved. 

At last his steps were homeward turned, 
And in his breast his true love burned 
With happy thoughts of her fond face, 
Her lovely form, and sweet embrace. 
But as he neared the well known gate 
A festal board appeared to wait 
The coming of a happy bride 
With lordly husband at her side, 
And as a carriage gayly wheeled 
Into the lane, his senses reeled. 
For there he saw the only form 
That ever had the strength to warm 
His soul into heroic fire 
xVnd seek the fame his hopes inspire. 

V. 

The sight was madness to his Vjrain, 
Yet he was forced to look again. 
In order to convince his mind. 
And shake his faith in woman kind. 



True, 39 



With staring eyes he stood and gazed, 
Cojupletely startled and aiuized, 
To think that she could soon forget 
The vow she made when last they met. 
Then through his frame a deadly chill 
Began to creep against his will. 



VI. 



Unasked he came; unseen he tied 
To wander where his fancy led, 
Since all the sweetness of his life 
Were lost when he had lost his wife. 
I'orlorn he wandered o'er the land, 
But gained in wealth on every hand; 
And rumor gave him wealth untold 
With iron coffers filled with gold. 
'Twas then he ceased to idly roam 
And bought himself a pleasant home 
Where he could think of days gone by 
Or live in peace, in quiet die, 



40 Hours Improved. 

Vll. 

One evening as he sat alone, 
He bravely stifled every groan, 
Although he plainly seemed to know 
That she was bound for weal or woe 
To that young rival of her choice, 
Yet he so longed to hear her voice 
And see the face he held so dear, 
That in his fancy she was near. 

VIII. 

He rose at once and took the train. 
That quickly drew him home again. 
He passed along the well known road, 
That gave a view of her abode. 
The stately trees whose pleasant shade, 
A happy trj'sting place bad made, 
Invited him to take a seat 
Beside a rill, whose music sweet 
Awakened thoughts of days long past 



True. 41 



Uutil his tears flowed free at last. 
He wept uucouscious of a form 
That came to calm his passion's storm. 
Till both his cheeks were softly pressed 
By hands that he had oft caressed, 
And ou his lips there fell a kiss 
Thit filial his so'al with perfect bliss. 
Then starting up and glancing round 
His sweetheart by his side he found, 
And as the evening light grew dim, 
He learned that she was true to him. 
vShe whispered as he raised his head: 
"It was my sister who was wed." 



42 Hours Improved, 



A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE. 

Ill a lovely little cottage 

Sils a young and happy wife, 
With her darling little baby, 

Dearer to her soul than life. 

What a thrill of sweet contentment 
Comes to every mother's breast, 

When she feels the dimpled fingers 
Of her baby there at rest. 

IIow she kisses and caresses, 

As a mother only can. 
Who is dreaming of the future, 

When her boy shall be a man. 



A Beautiful Picture. 43 



True and noble in his manhood; 

Free from ways of subtle vice; 
Free from evils that will ruin 

Every soul which they entice. 

O the love of such a mother, 

Pure and stainless as the 1)03% 

Whom she fondles and caresses, 
With a hopeful mother's joy, 

Is by far a greater blessing, 

Than the wealth of kings can give. 
To the heart whose lost affection, 

vStill permits the man to live. 

Could \\\y pen but paint a picture, 

That revealed the love and pride 

Of a happy wife and mother, 
With her baby at her side, 



44 Hours Improved. 

I would be by far more famous, 
Than a Watteau or a v'^cott, 

Who have drawn, with peu aud peucil, 
Pictures that reveal them not. 

I cau see the uiother waiting 
For the father's eager tread. 

As she lavs her preci )U3 burden. 
In the cot beside the bed. 

Aud no sweetheart longs so cteeply 
For her lover's fond caress, 

As this faithful wife aud mother 
For her husband's happiness. 

How her mind is often busy 

With the ever pleasant truth, 
That her husband is more loving, 
^ Than the lover of her youth. 



A Beaulifid Pic/inr. 45 



See him coming! O what pleasure 
Thrills each fiber of her frame, 

As she springs to meet one darling, 
With another darling's name. 

Weary with his day of labor, 
Ka^erly he folds his wife 

lu the arms of his protection. 

That will shield her with his life. 

And she twines her arms around him 
In her eager love and pride, 

While he leads her forward gently, 
Happy as a morning bride. 

Then he kisses her so fondl)-, 

That her eyes are filled with tears, 

And the swelling of her bosom, 
Tells how deeply she reveres. 



46 Hours Improved. 

While he calls her names endearing, 
He compares her to a dove, 

ijver ready to be petted; 

Such a life indeed is love! 

Who would live alone in sadness? 

Who would frustrate nature's plan? 
Ey a life ofnanieless longinjj. 

With such happiness for man? 



Uncle Hiram. 47 



UNCLE HIRAM 

TO THE BOY WHO INIOCKED AT HIM. 

Come here my bo}'. What have I done 

That you should treat me so? 
Tis true that I am ohl auil weak; 
My feet indeed are slow; 

My clothes are not the very best; 

My eyes are not so .yood; 
I cannot catch and punish you; 

I would not if I could. 

But does that give 5-ou leave, my son, 

To scoff and scorn at me? 
Ah no, indeed, }'ou are too wise, 

To offer such a plea. 



48 Hours Improved. 

Though these gray-hiirs have crowned 1113' head 

I, too, was once a boy, 
As blith and hopeful as you are, 

With soul as full of joy. 

My limbs were once much like your own, 

They led me everywhere; 
Into the wood and by the mill, 

Aud up its creaking stair. 

But now I walk with this old cane 

Which I have used for years; 
It is a staff to my poor bones, 

A friend who stays my fears. 

When I was j'oung and spry like you, 

I pitied helpless age; 
I lent a hand where e'er I could; 

I loved a thoughtful sage; 



Uncle Hiram. 

In search of knowledge we would go 

Into the distant wood; 
He taught me lessons from the trees, 

To make me wise and good. 

He taught me to respect the old, 

Who soon would fall like leaves, 

So that my closing days should be 
As rich as golden sheaves. 

The people loved my gentleness; 

Politeness brought me wealth, 
And honors blessed my happy home. 

Worth more than worldly pelf. 

Here is a book; I give it you; 

I wrote it j-ears ago; 
It teaches boys far better ways 

Than those you seem to know. 



49 



50 Hours Improved. 

You feel ashamed, I see, 1113- lad; 

That blush upon your brow 
Will do you good in future years. 

And it becomes you now. 

O don't refuse, but take my gift, 
And tell me now I pray, 

Why do you vex the old and weak, 
Who chance to come this way? 

You thought me ignorant and poor! 

Then let me say, my son, 
Old clothes and age do not reveal 

What active brains have done. 



Uncle Hirant, 51 



UNCLE HIRAM 

TO THE TRUANT BOY, 

You'r out of school, I see, my lad! 

But let uie kiudly say 
You can't afford to loaf arouud 

While boyhood slips awa}'. 

The truaut always is despised 

Ry every oue in town. 
He grows to be a common thief, 

A laggard or a clown. 

He loafs about the streets and stores, 
And hears the vicious tale, 

That leads to mischief and debauch, 
By means that seldom fail 



52 Hours Improved. 

To blight with ruiu, whom they touch, 
And leave his soul shipwrecked 

Upon the rocks and shoals of time, 
With none to give respect. 

He learns to smoke and chew and swear 

And drink the liquid fire, 
That burns all manhood from his soul, 

But deepens foul desire. 

The prison cell and drunkard's grave 

Are open to receive 
The erring boy whose thoughtlessness 

Makes loving parents grieve. 

What do you say? Vou'r not the one 
To bring about such scenes? 

Then boy, beware! across the 1:)ar 
A frightful serpent gleams. 



Uncle Hi) am, 53 



O what a shame to waste your time 

lu idleness and siu, 
Wheu every moment well improved, 

The world's applause might win. 

Great men are only known as great 
Who use their time with care; 

By such economy thej' shun 
The tempter's gaudy snare. 

These days will build your character 
And rule your future life. 

The fame you win, the pow'r you gain, 
Must be through years of strife. 

I like your face for from your eye 

There beams a fiery soul 
That speaks to me of high resolve, 

And will to gain control. 



^^ Hours Improved, 

Direct its force upon the good 
And 3 ou are sure to win. 

In every contest for the right, 
Against the hosts of sin. 

I like that suiile and earnest look, 

And self-reliant tone; 
It shows to nie as plain as day, 

The fault is not your own. 

I think your parents are to blame, 
They failed to train you right; 

They let you go and come at will 
At morning, noon and night. 

You ran away from home and school; 

From useful book and slate, 
And every one around you seemed 

To leave you to your fate. 



Uiide Hiram. 55 



You saw your playmates uioviug on 

To liouor and reuowu, 
While you were styled by every oue, 

"The loafer of the towu." 

Just stop to think and j-ou will see 
That once uo doubt \^ou stood 

Ahead of those who laugh at you; 
At least I know you could, 

If you would only turn your mind 
To earnest work in school 

You soon could be a mau of note, 
While others play the fool. 



Poems on opecial 



'ccasions. 



The Separation. 59 



THE SEPARATION. 

Written for the Thalonian Society, June 19, iS 
Read hy Paris Ashcraft. 

Of earthly ties that break the heart 

A poet's lilies are sure to tell; 
In these, we pray, O charming Muse, 

Tha thou wilt give thy potent spell! 

O let them tell of uoble work 

Pursued by all these eager hands 

While honors greet their willing souls 
And gain the prizes toil demands. 

O sing of those whose prudent zeal 

Will yield a thousand fold to bless 

Their barques upon the sea of life, 

And crown the deeds with true success. 



6o Hours Improved. 

What higher sentiments will steal 
Into the breasts of gallant men, 

When fame is won and thought portrays 
The scenes enacted here again? 

When duty calls us to the field 

And praises ring across the land, 

How happy each will be to say, 

That he was on 3 among this band. 

The open halls that ring to-day, 
With merry voices full of glee. 

Will hear no more their laugh and song, 
Nor echo with their melody. 

Each tongue that speaks of joy and love. 
Will find some hopeful, eager ear. 

To catch the trembling words that fall, 
From lips that loved ones will revere. 



The Separation. 6i 

How swift the pleasant days have fled 

Though gloomy clouds have heavy hung 

Around our lives, which mourning still 
With grief and agony are wrung. 

What matters where or what we are 

If virtue has her highest sway? 
We surel}' need not trembling stand 

Upon the mighty judgment day. 

But when the book is opened wide 

The Master's face will glow to see, 
That all his children of the earth 

Are blest throughout eternit}'. 

Yet why shouM we attempt to rend 

The veil that screens the future state, 
Since earth received the Son of God 

To guard our souls from evil fate. 



62 Hours Improved. 

Let joy prevail iu every heart. 

While peace and rest forever lie 
Beyond the glory of fair earth, 

Where fame and honor never die. 

When leagues of land between us roll; 

When foaming billows rise and fall, 
Our thoughts will eagerly return, 

And happy scenes again recall. 

And yet 'tis sad for us to part 

From all these friends who are so dear, 
And launch into the great unknown, 

With such few honors given here. 

To night we meet in active life 

While joy and hope are bounding high, 
But ere we gather here again 

Some friend beneath the sod will lie. 



The Separation. 63 

We look around and in each face 

The signs of health and pleasure glow; 

We wonder when we see you all, 

Which one will be the first to go. 

We love you all as brothers love, 

No enmity is in our hearts; 
We love the work that we have done, 

Where all have taken noble parts. 

We love these halls, for here we met 

Those friends whose innocence confessed 

The hopes that filled their stainless minds 
Ere they had sought eternal rest. 

Now they are gone; their precious souls 

Have passed beyond the Pearly Gate; 
O God! through weary years to come, 

Will their fond spirits for us wait? 



64 Hours Improved. 

O yes, indeed, they keep their watch 
To greet us at the sacred throue. 

And angels look upon their joy. 

While here we bow and weep alone. 

But bitter tears can ne'er recall 

The loved, who filled our lives with zeal, 
Yet they will issue unrestrained, 

And all our loneliness reveal. 

Then let us hope! O God, how long! 

Within that realm beyond the sky, 
That we shall meet the loved again, 

Aud know how sweet it is to die! 



The Class Poem. 65 



THE CI.ASS POEM. 

Delivered by tlie author at Taylor's University on the evening of his 
graduation, June 20, iSS8. 



O what is our future, 
Dear classmates and friends? 

Which way will we travel 
Ou life's rugged road? 

What blessings will reach us 
While health condesceuds 

To lead us still safely 
Where knowledge has flowed. 

lu England or Scotland, 
In France or in Spain, 

In Turkey or Russia, 
On Africa's strand, 

In Norwa}- or Sweeden, 
On Italy's plain, 



66 Hours Improved. 

Our virtues have iuflueuce 
Over the laud. 

Ou uiouutaiu, iu vallej^ 
Or ou the deep sea, 

Amoug the cold icebergs 
That float from the poles, 

Or iu the warm tropics, 
Whose bouut}' is free, 

Where uature iu spleudor 
Her sweetuess uurolls, 

The spirit of kuowledge 
Will urge to success 

Aud wouderful visious, 
Which calm aud delight 

The more uoble passious 
Our hearts may possess. 

Will give us forever 
Coiiuuaud of the right. 

The future will tr^- us 
With pleasure aud paiu 



The Class Poem. 67 

To quicken our pulses, 
And cause us to feel 

That, conscience reproves us 
Unless we retain 

A bold, buoyant spirit 
To fill us with zeal. 

Who knows the threat gladness 
Transition will bring 

To soften the trials 
That fall at our feet? 

Who dreams of sweet measures 
The augels will sing 

Wherejoy is eternal 
And life is complete? 

What matchless enchantment 
Our spirits foretell, 

When one of our nuniljer 
Emblazons his name! 

What thrilling sensations 
Will charm with their spell 



68 Hours Improved. 

When some shall mount higher 
The ladder of fame! 

When dear ones shall enter 
The valley of death, 

What sorrow will moisten 
Our eyes at their fate! 

What sadness will laden 
The tremulous breath 

To think how we loved 
In the year eighty-eight, 

When age shall remove us 
And beauty decay, 

When years into centuries 
Ceaselessly roll, 

And time seems to usher 
A long cloudless day. 

When death shall have given 
Sweet peace to the soul, 

What music will heighten 
The exquisite song? 



The Class Poem. 69 

What dirges will laden 
The tremulous sigh? 

What wizzard will tell us, 
Among that vast throng, 

The paths we must follow; 
The deaths we must die? 

All calm and all thoughtful 
We look at the past. 

And plan for the duties 
That come in our way; 

The veil of the future 
Around us is cast, 

Concealing the dangers 
That mangle and slay; 

But faithful crusaders 
Through darkness profund, 

With science and progress 
To hasten the van. 

Will lessen the dangers 
That gather around. 



70 Hours Improved. 

And weaken forever 
The vices of man. 

Our virtues are ])eacons 
That light up the sky; 

vSonie blazing out brightly 
And casting a glow 

Upon the great ocean 
Where dangers may lie, 

Revealed by the splendors 
That over them flow. 

But others are hidden 
Profusely away 

Behind the effulgence 
That breaks with the dawn, 

Uutil they assemble 
In perfect array, 

When Satan surrenders 
And Hades is gone. 

Our hearts have been heavy 
With anguish and woe, 



The Class Poem. 

And evils accost us 
To blight active life, 

But hoping and trusting 
In earnest, we show 

That patience will conquer 
The phalanx of strife. 

The tears which have risen 
In griefs mournful eyes 

Are jewels that sparkle 
With all that is pure, 

Revealing affections 
We wish to disguise 

And bearing the burdens 
Our hearts would endure. 

Then cherish these treasures 
With glowing delight, 
And follow forever 
Some laudable theme. 

Defending the helpless 
And guarding the right. 



71 



y2 Hours Improved. 

We'll hope for the glory 
Of life's golden beam. 

We'll seek for advancement 
That labor should bring, 

And eagerly hasten 
To orient lands, 

Where nations to follow 
Will joyfully sing 

The plaudits that welcome 
The works of our hands. 

How much should we value 
Distinction and birth? 

Since angels are never 
Permitted to know 

Of praises and honors 
That greet us on earth, 

Or trials that chasten 
Our spirits below. 

If they were found mourning 
O'er woes that we bear 



The Class Poem. 73 

The portals of Heaven 

Would only retain 
A throng of s^ad spirits 

That live in despair, 
And gladly would hasten 

To meet us again. 
But hope rises hrgher 

To fill the pained breast 
With peace and contentment 

Which silently bring, 
The comfort that sweetens 

The days of our rest 
And show to the evil 

That knowledge is king. 
When he shall desert us 

Our last failing breath 
Will leave the heart pulseless 

And cold as a stone, 
While friendship will mournfully 

Gaze upon, death. 



74 Hours Improved. 

And those who have loved us 

Will sorrow aloue. 
No fathers or mothers 

Or loved ones we see, 
For they have all yielded 

To nature's last sleep, 
While saddest reflections 

Of what is to be 
May cause each dear classmate 

To silently weep. 
Together we followed 

The loved ones so dear 
And laid them forever 

Beneath the damp sod. 
But why should we grievously 

Shed the warm tear. 
Since they are surrounded 

By blessings from God? 
The stars are above us 

And still shiuiug bright, 



The Class Poem. 75 

Behind the great vapors 

That darken our way, 
And all the deep shado-.vs 

We see in the night 
Will only make welcome 

The dawning ofdaj'. 



76 Hours Improved, 



SCHOOIv DAY GREETING. 

Recited at CoUiitibia City, September 20, 1S90. 
By Miss Kittie Whiltenberger. 

Our patrous and pupils and teachers to-day 
We greet you with joyful acclaim; 

Wherever your stations, whatever your plans, 
Your presence we value the same. 

We work for the public and hope for success; 

Your presence increases our zeal. 
And may yovir enjoyment be counted no less. 

But ecjual the pleasure we feel. 

This da}' is a proud one, indeed, for us all. 

With ultimate good as its goal. 
The sjjirit of contest that enters the breast 

Will cleanse and enoble the soul. 



School Day Greeting . 77 

The prizes here won will encourage our youth 

To strive for high honors in life, 
And those once defeated are better prepared 

To enter again in the strife. 

For pluck is the mainspring that leads to success 

And wins the applause of mankind, 
And he who has nearly succeeded does well, 

Leaving hosts of companions behind. 

The thoughtless and indolent never can win, 

They simply remain in the way 
To clog the endeavors of more active minds, 

Which chafe at their useless delay. 

The days that are given us mortals below 

Are precious as purified gold; 
And moments once wasted can never return 

Though we may regret them when old. 



78 Hours Is)ip) ovcd. 

How careless we are with our moments of time 
Which pass in a flash and are gone 

To leave us in recklessness moving about 
Till certain si;ccess is withdrawn. 

How few of our race are successful in life, 
While thousands go down at its close 

To mingle again with the dust of the spheres, 
And rest in unhonored repose. 

Those souls which are earnest and willing to do 
Have paths of pure beauty to tread. 

Their glory shall live for long ages to come 
While bliss shall repose with the dead. 

Some men are like insects that live ])ut an hour 
Yet spend their whole lives in excess; 

In useless existence— that torment the true 
With vices that all should repress. 



School Day Grccfino-. 79 

Rut others are stars in the pathway of men 

Which guide them to all that is good 
They point out the roads that have lead to success 

Which more might pursue if they would. 

They mould the opinions that rule o'er the state; 

They sit as our judges of laws; 
They kuow of the storms and upheavals of earth 

And seek to discover their cause. 

Great statesmen are with us assembled to-daj-; 

The wise who will rule in the land, 
Our duties, as parents and teachers, are plain: 

Give training to heart and to hand. 

Again we bid welcome to friends of the school; 

To those who have answered the call; 
The work here begun will yield good results, 

Then welcome; thrice welcome to all. 



8o Hours Improved. 



TIME. 

This soug of time, I write in rhyme, 

And listen to the ring 
Of words that chime, in this sweet clime 

Like echoes of the spring. 

In joyous tone or muffled moan 

They tell the simple tale, 
While hearts of stone, without a groau, 

Hark to distress' wail. 

Some souls unmoved and unreproved 

Go on their vicious way, 
While all around Old Time is found 

The monarch of the day. 



Time. 8 1 

Go where you will there haunts you still 

The phantoms of mankind, 
With sudden thrill or fearful chill 

You look at what you find. 

Here lies the past, unearthed at last 

To science of to-day; 
Gaunt forms held fast where Time has cast 

Them into mire and clay. 

Man reads the rocks through earthquake shocks 

And sees an ancient thief 
That moves and mocks at fortune's locks 

Whose barriers are brief. 

With rush and roar around the door 

He brings a cutting blast, 
That has a score of ills in store 

As it goes sweeping past. 



82 JIo/iis Improved. 

O'er hill and vale he sets his sail 

And far into the sky 
Sweeps on though hail and rains assail 

As he would pass them by. 

Stout ships may sweep across the deep 

And anchor in the bay, 
But Time will creep, — though waves may sleep, 

To steal their strength away. 

No force can hold Old Time so bold 

Nor check his onward flight; 
No power above, nor force of love 

Can keep him in the night. 

With limbs unbound he still is found 

A thief upon the earth, 
Who steals away our friends to-day. 

From all their scenes of mirth. 



Time. 83 



O'er sua and star he leaps afar 
Aud few cau find his worth; 

Kxistence proves he lives aud moves 
But no one knows his birth. 



I r)e oeason; 



spring, 87 



SPRING. 

Wheu the chilling winds of winter 
Have departed from our fields; 

When the balmy air of springtime, 
With its fragrance o'er us steals, 



We can look with veneration, 

To the One who rules the air, 

While we give our heart's devotion, 
For delightful sweetness there. 

Let us pause and gaze around us. 

On the landscape fresh and green. 

While we contemplate the beauty 
Of so wonderful a scene. 



88 Hours Improved. 

See that line of gold and shadow, 
Speeding swiftly o'er the land! 

Look upon the suow^y hillside 
And the riverbauks of sand! 

See the snow-flakes quickly melting! 

Watch the rivulets run by! 
Look upon the changing meadow; 

Look into the azure sky, 

And we know that spring is coming; 

We can feel her gentle breath, 
As she comes to waken beauty 

From the prison-house of death. 

Turn a glance upon yon mountain, 
Where that massive heap of st:ow. 

Which was born there in the winter, 
Slowlv melts beneath the glow, 



spring. 89 

Of that sweet and glorious sunbeam, 

lu the softness of whose light, 
We can see a thousanfl wonders 

Stealing meekly into sight. 

When the crystal snow has vanished 

We can see the fresh young grass 
Smiling in its grateful gladness 

From the meadows as we pass. 

We may see the foaming river. 

Swollen by the mountain stream, 
Rushing on to meet the ocean, 

Gleaming in the morning's beam. 

Snow has melted from the hillside; 

Earth and air are growing warm; 
Clouds have vanished from the heavens, 

Leaving naught of winter's storm. 



90 Hours Improved. 

How the dew upon the herbage, 
Sparkles iu the golden light, 

Like a luilliou costly brilliants 
Smiling at so grand a sight. 



Over field and in the forest, 

Everywhere a flow'r is found; 

Bees are noisy with their humming, 
As they go their daily round. 

We are pleased with bloom and beauty. 
And the flowers in our wa}', 

Fill the air with grateful fragrance, 
For the pleasant month of May. 

In the woods we hear the music 

Of the choir that comes with spring, 

Halt, and listen to their voices, 

While the hills and forests ring! 



spring. 91 



Here the robin, there the bhie-jay. 
On the l)rauches swinging high, 

Mock the notes of other singers, 
As they hear them passing by. 

Ah, how well I )'et remeinl)er, 
"When the robin sang to nie, 

Swinging on the topmost branches 
While I stood beneath the tree! 

Never had I heard such music; 

Never had I felt such glee; 
Never dreamed of such sweet rapture. 

In so plain a melody. 

How my features glowed with pleasure 
At the cadence of his song, 

And the singer in departing 

Took my boyish heart along. 



92 Hours Improved. 

That was in my early springtime, 

When my heart was young and true 

To the love of ardent nature, 

Which no wave of sorrow knew. 

But the very gayest season 

Has some blossoms which must fade 
And the brightest of all firesides. 

Death is waiting to invade. 

He will triumph ever sorrow 
And by yielding self at last, 

We may taste the sweets of heaven 
In the mem'ries of the past. 

There the years may pass unnoticed; 

Joy and peace may strew the way 
With new beauties for our spirits, 

Where no evils dare to stray. 



Sprinr. 93 

Thus iu clouds of gloomy darkness 

Floating iu our youthful skies, 
We will find a silver lining, 

When the mists of ages rise. 

Like the clouds that cross the zenith. 

They are dark upon the face. 
But the other side is brilliant. 

With the beauty of God's grace. 

O, sad spirit, cease 5'our grieving. 

And forgetting toil and pain, 
You may see the former sweetness, 

Springing into life again. 

Cast away your cloak of sorrow, 

Cheer your heart with better things. 

And your soul may hear in fancy. 

Sounds that come from angels' wings. 



94 Hours Improved. 

Theu we ueed uot look and wonder 
By what strange and magic hand 

All these riches of the seasons 

Have been scattered o'er the laud. 

O, forget our bitter sorrows, 

Think of happy days to come, 

Think of beauties that will greet us 
In our bright celestial home. 

Did I say 'forget our sorrows?' 
Ah, how easy to advise, 

Since the soul cannot forget them. 
And such mandates will despise. 

While we think of those departed 
In the very bloom of youth; 
fiver jo3'ous and contented; 
Ever seeking after truth. 



spring. 95 



vShall the lives bowed down in sadness 
Never rise to sweeter light? 

Shall the struggling souls of manhood 
Sink into eternal night? 

No, indeed! The fields of glory 
Yield a broad and open way 

To escape from sad dejection, 

And returns to life's sweet May. 

When our summer times have vanished, 
And our autumn lives are o'er; 

When the days of winter pass us, 
And this clay shall be no more, 

Flow'rs will bloom again in fragrance, 

To adorn a faithful heart, 
And the rich reward for duty 

Will perform its sacred part. 



96 Hours hnpyovcd. 

When the augels sing tlieir chorus, 
Aud the goldeu harps shall ring 

With the joy of souls immortal. 

In that bright and heav'nly spring. 

We will live in love forever, 

Though our sweetest flow'rs have died. 
For they bloom in perfect beauty 

On the sweet Elysian side. 



Slimmer. 97 



SUMMER. 

Golden Summer! Time of harvest! 

Time to gather iu the gram! 
Who would hesitate to love thee, 

Or forget thy blessed reign. 

Royal vSummer! How your bounty 
Spreads fair favors all arouud, 

While the rocks and hills and woodland 
With sweet minstrelsy resound. 

In the groves the birds are singing; 

Insects fill the balmj- air; 
This, to them, is pleasant pasti me. 

When the days are bright and fair. 



98 Hours Improved, 

On the clover bees are working, 
Seeking riches rare and sweet, 

Lajnng up the l)est provisions, 

In their stores, for men to eat. 

Brilliant vSunshine of the Summer! 

Thou hast laid thy magic wand, 
On the woods and scenes about us, 

And rich verdure clothes the land. 

vSee the wheatfields turning yellow, 
As they follow nature's plan, 

Slowly storing up their treasures, 
For the use of toiling man. 

See the grasses in the meadows, 
On a gladsome summer day, 

Bowing as the winds sweep o'er them; 
Soon to fall as scented haj'. 



Summer. 

Noble orchards, heavy ladeued 

With the bouuty of their fruit, 
Which the fanner watches proudly, 
Growing only kinds that suit. 

Varied changes of the climate 

And the soil in which they grow. 

Ever ready for improvement 

In the kinds he loves to show. 

Summer's riches are a pleasure. 
If one pauses for a while 

To observe the priceless beauty 
That is nurtured by her smile. 

Let us wander through the meadow. 
To the noisy little brook, 

There to find the wealth of Nature, 
And to read her like a book. 



99 



1 00 Hou rs hnproved. 

We cavi look upou the landscape, 
Aud behold the glowing sun 

Rising in his kingly splendor 

When the day hasjust begun. 

What a scene of wondrous beauty 
Calmly lies exposed to view! 

Sloping fields that meet the water 

Of a brook that wanders through. 

Fields of wheat with tossing billows, 
Like the movement of the sea; 

Fields of corn with blades that rustle 
In the breezes joyously. 

Winding through the waving meadows 
Brooklets loiter on their way. 

As they seek the shaded corn-field. 
In the beauty of the day. 



Siinivier. loi 



From the brooklet, higher, higher, 
Rise the fields toward the east, 

Till the suu iu gorgeous splendor 
Gives the world a goldeu feast. 

We cau feel the touch immortal. 
Moving iu the troubled breast; 

It arouses strange emotious, 
And ambition gives unrest. 

How we long to paint the picture, 
And imbue it with the skill 

That would live for countless ages, 

When our frames are cold and sLill. 

We can ponder vital questions, 
As we study nature's laws; 

Watching for some strange occurrence, 
Seeking for its hidden cause. 



102 Hours Improved. 

As we wander to a woodland 

That has crowned a modest bill 

There to search for priceless treasures 
Wrought by Nature's matchless skill, 

We ma}^ be so wrapt in wonder, 

That a storm breaks o'er our heads, 

Ere aware that it is coming. 

Till its darkness round us spreads. 

How the lightnings flash and quiver 
As they rend the sturdy oak; 

Sending splinters 'cross our pathway; 
Blinding us at every stroke. 

And the raindrops fall in torrents, 
While the driving gusts of wiud 

Sweep the sheets of water past us 
Ere a shelter we can find. 



Slimmer. 103 



Great trees bend aud crash about us; 

Giauls who have stood for years, 
Seem to fall without a struggle; 

Filling us with vagrant fears. 

Dripping wet we find a shelter 

From the rain and howling blast, 

There to wait until the fury 

Of the storm has slowly passed. 

Soon the lowering clouds have broken. 
And the sun sends forth his light, 

To adorn the earth with splendor. 
Pleasing to our mortal sight. 

Then we journej' slowly homeward. 

Thrilled with pleasure at the thought 

Of a world so full of wonders, 
Which a deity has wrought. 



104 • Hours Improved, 

Day by day the sun grows warmer; 

Riper grows the golden grain; 
All is ready for the master, 

To reward his toil again. 

Then the farmer reaps the hat vest 

With a clatter and a din; 
Ready by the early sunrise 

For his workmen to begin. 

When the grass and grains are gathered 
From the fields and stored away, 

He can rest from weary labor. 

Ah, what peace his thoughts convey! 

He is rich since he is happ}', 

And his debts are fairly paid; 

He is free and independent, 

Save on Nature's matchless aid, 



Summer, 105 



Yes, the summer is most fruitful; 

What she gives us is the best; 
Better, sweeter to our fancies, 

Thau the bloom of all the rest. 

lu the evening as we ponder 

On the days that are no more; 

Building castles for the future 

Which are broken by the score. 

We may see the graceful motion 
Of the spotted whip-poor-will, 

As it flies in early evening. 

Open-mouthed to catch its fill; 

Opened mouthed to catch the insects 
As they float with lazy hum, 

Round the mansion's stately chimneys 
And the modest cottage luin. 



io6 Hours Improved. 

Sitting in the yard to watch them, 
With the slow approach of dusk, 

Well contented with our labor, 

Who would be an awkward lusk? 

From the city to the country. 

We can go for health and peace, 

To enjoy the breath of sunshine. 

While her beauties still increase. 

We will glorify the Summer, 

We will praise her ever more. 

For her treasures are the richest, 
That the seasons have in store. 



A II i limn. 107 



AUTUMN. 

Spring and Summer both are pleasant, 
So is Autumn when it comes, 

Bringing other kinds of gladness. 
To enliven hearts and homes. 

Here the ash tree, there the oak tree 
Drops a leaf upon the ground, 

As the gentle breezes murmur. 

With a distant, mournful sound. 

We can hear the noisy insects, 

As they keep their lowly way. 

Ever busy and contented 

With their labors for the day.- 



lo8 IJoius l))ipyoi'cd. 

Living, dying and decaying, 

Each one striving for bis own; 

Rich in undiscovered greatness: 
Keys to science yet unknown. 

It is wonderful to notice. 

How they often gain their ends. 
And their chirpings are but signals 

To their mates and insect friends. 

All things seem to have a language; 

From the lowest up to man. 
But we do not understand them, 

And I fear we never can. 

I have listened to the cricket. 

When he sang unto his mate; 

Certain accents in his music, 
I could readilv translate. 



Auluiini. 109 



So it is with other creatures; 

Every one asserts some claim, 
That it has on Mother Nature, 

When distress afflicts its frame. 

Ah, the knowledge that is given, 
As one watches them at play. 

Is well worth the little moments, 

.Spent in learning what they say. 

Autumn seems to be the season. 

When the plants prepare for death; 

Shielding offsprings from the Winter, 
When it comes with icy breath. 

Birds and squirrels, hurry-skurr}-. 
Hasten to complete their stores; 

Geese and pigeons flj'ing southward. 
Seek for more congenial shores. 



i lo Hours Improved. 

When the leaves fall from the brandies. 

In their places they leave buds, 
Clothed in blankets for protection, 

From the Winter's chilling floods. 

It is pleasant in the autumn, 

To observe the stead}' change, 

That is stealing over nature. 

Clothing earth with vesture strange. 

How it transform field and forest. 
From a world of living green, 

To a mass of 1)rown and scarlet, 
That give beauty lo the scene. 

All this work is done with neatness, 
By a hand that is unseen. 

Giving nature more enchantment. 
Than appears in living green. 



A lit mil II. 1 1 f 



In the woodland, thick with timber, 
We can find the giant form 

Of some mighty, fallen monarch, 
Which was broken by the storm. 

There it lies among the lowly, 

Slowly going to decay; 
Stately even in its downfall; 

Crushed and broken in the way. 

We will wonder why it flourished; 

Why it grew from year to }-ear; 
Why decay should overtake it; 

Why its form should disappear. 

It was noble in its structure; 

It was free from blighting sin, 
But in perishing as we do, 

Naught reveals why it has been. 



: J Join s liiipyovcd. 

Thus we pouder on existence, 

Its relation to ourselves; 
To the flora and the fauna, 

Into which our science delves 

All must perish. Dissolution 

Comes to claim the living throng. 

As we move along life's pathway'. 

What redeems the world from wrong? 

Autumn prolucts have more value, 

To the scientific miud. 
Than the treasures. Spring and Summer, 

In their precincts have confined. 

Then are found the rarest species. 

Which will rise to bloom once more; 

Then we notice what provisions 
Nature takes into her store. 



A II til 111)1. 113 



To provide against the winter 

And be ready once again 
When the Spring-time and the Summer 

Have renewed their clouds and raiu. 

Man is growing. Art is growing; 

vScieuce guides them on their way: 
They must live and die together, 

Time allows them no delay. 

The}' may flourish for a season, 

With the principle of life. 
Urging them to reach distinction. 

Through a world of constant strife. 

Time adapts them to each other, 
Then away their secrets fly; 

PVom the smallest to the greatest. 

They have lived and they must die. 



1 14 Hours Iiiiproi'Cii, 

We have noticed in the morning, 

How the leaves -wave stiff and white, 
When the moisture from the heavens, 
Froze upon them in the night. 

Like an old man in his dotage, 

Every leaf is touched b3' death; 

Gray and grizzled by its contact, 
With the Autumn's icy breath. 

O, how wonderful is nature, 

And how strange it seems to be. 

That a man grows gray, to perish 
Like the leaf upon the tree! 

What has blest his youth with beauty; 

What has given manhood's strength; 
What has filled his brow with furrows; 

Taking all away at length? 



Aulumn. 115 

He is like the plants of siimiiier, 

Blessed with beauty for a while, 
And his harvest time approaches, 

With the sweetness of its smile, 

To imbue his humble spirit 

With the glory of the skies; 
Then the autumn frosts assail it. 

And it withers, droops and dies. 

We heve seen the stately corn-stalk, 

Grow, and ripen and decay; 
Time has chosen thus to warn us. 

That our frames will pass away. 

Sometimes brightness, sometimes darkness, 

Rolls across our earthly plain; 
Olt when hope is bounding highest, 

Sorrow comes to us again; 



11 6 Hours Improved, 

Then the sunsliiae sheds its glory 
Over forest stream and field, 

And its powerful persuasion 

Causes everything to yield, 

To the vital louch that brightens 
All the beauty we have seen; 

Then the forest holds more grandeur 
Than appears in changeless green. 

Like the swan that sings the sweetest, 
Just before its spirit's flight, 

Here the hand of Nature's Artist 
Seems to take his soul's delight, 

In portraying to our fancies, 

That which almost takes our breath. 
Then it suddenly destroys it, 

By the heavy hand of death. 



An Aiitumn Dav. 



117 



AN AUTUMN DAY. 

The winds are rushing swift and strong, 
To chase the fleecy clouds along, 
While tiny raindrops, all around, 
Fiercely beat upon the ground. 

Our feathered friends make haste in vain 
To seek a shelter from the rain. 
Turn where they will and fly about 
The subtle water finds them out, 

And once again into the shower 
They search for some secluded bower, 
Where they may rest and shelter find, 
Safe from the rush of stormy wind. 



ii8 Hours Improved, 

If such a place they gain at last 

They rest in safety from the blast. 

Their wings they fold, their cyis they close 

And settle into calm repose. 

The giant trees that toss on high 
Their noisy branches to the sky, 
Like watchful soldiers, tall and grim, 
Are dripping wet in bole and limb. 

The wood-mouse leaves his dripping nest, 
And creeping forth he goes in quest 
Of some dry place among the leaves 
Where he is safe as he believes. 

The silent hawk with watchful eyes 
At length the trembling mouse espies, 
Aud swiftly dashes on his prey. 
To gorge himself aud fly away. 



An Autumn Day, 119 

The squirrel leaps from tree to tree; 
Descends their trunks most fearlessly, 
And slowly bends his head to drink 
A draught from show'r born lakelet's brink, 

But at the rustle of a leaf, 
He starts, and trembles like a thief; 
A moment pauses, then he flies. 
While fear dilates his flashing eyes. 

With doleful cry the hooting owl 
Gives answer to the raccoon's howl, 
But keeps his nest till night comes down, 
To hide the forest's dusky brown, 

And hidden ii-i the fallen grass. 

From which it springs forth as you pass, 

The timid hare with nimble feet. 

Is chased by grayhound strong and fleet. 



I20 Hours Improved. 

But quickly through the copse-wood ground, 

The hare escapes the eager hound, 

Who once defeated in the race, 

Turns homeward from his bootless chase. 

Then far away among the fog, 
The pheasant sits upon his log; 
With fanning wing he beats his drum, 
To mingle with the raindrops hum. 

The patter, patter of the raiu, 

Calls me to consciousness again; 

I wonder how I could forget 

My hat and clothes were wringing wet. 

Then glancing at the gloomy sky 
I see the storm will soon pass by; 
And with the moist air in my face, 
I homeward wend my listless pace. 



An AuticDDi Day. 12] 

At last the raindrops cease to fall 
And niist has settled over all, 
But soon the mist has cleared away 
While in its stead the sunbeams play, 

For now the winds their fury o'er 
Pursue the fleeing clouds no more, 
The clouds, when once their duty's done, 
Are swallowed by the thirsty sun. 



122 Hou rs Improved, 



WINTER. 

Wheu llie oak-trees iu the forest 

Scatter leaves about the plain, 
And the zephyrs iu their passage, 

vSeek for beauty there iu vaiu. 
We must feel a shade of sadness, 

For the beauty that has fled; 
For the work that nature wasted, 

In the fields that look so dead. 
What was once so rife with beauty 

Now looks cheerless and forlorn, 
Since the branches of their verdure, 

By the the Autumn, have been shorn. 
How the oak-tree's leafless branches 

In the breezes bending low, 
Every murmur, sadly murmur. 

As they waver to and fro. 



Winter. 123 



How the}- grumble at the North-wiud, 

Who has robbed them of their joy, 
Aud perverted all their beauty 

To a dull and base alloy. 
Keen and cutting it is blowing 

As it comes with rush and roar; 
Hoarsely moaning round the gables, 

Creeping in beneath the door. 
Hark! with almost human accent. 

Comes a faint and dismal groan, 
Filled with deep, soul-stirring pathos, 

Like a soldier's dying moan. 
By aud by the snow-clouds gather 

See the flakes begin to fall! 
Slowly! slowly! Faster! faster! 

Till at last the}' cover all! 
Then the North-wind whispers terror 

Of the days that soon will come. 
And we see by fancy's painting. 

Much distress and horror dumb. 



1 24 Ifoiirs Impt'oird, 

Some are warmly olail for winter; 

Others shiver in the blast 
Of that unrelenting whirlwind, 

As it drives the snow-flakes past. 
When the Intteruess of winter 

Comes upon them unawares, 
The\- are startled bv its coming. 

And bow down beneath its cares. 
True, they might have once provided. 

For vhe winter's howling storm. 
When the sun was shining brilliant. 

And the days were clear and warm, 
But some evil may have fallen 

In the moment of success. 
Which has led them on to ruin, 

Full of want and wretchedness; 
Led them on to foul destruction. 

While the sun was shining bright; 
Plunged them into degredation; 

Into darkness black as night. 



Whiter. 125 



They have lost the golden splendor, 

That gives vigor to one's life; 
They can only hasten onward, 
And engage in fiercer strife. 
All is darkness; all is sadness; 

Hopelessly they toil along; 
Nothing pleasant to sustain them; 

Everywhere oppressed with wrong. 
Yet the light shines just as brilliant. 

When it glances through the cloud. 
As it did in summer season, 

When devoid of misty shroud. 
But it does not warm the breezes, 

Nor the grasses wake to life. 
Ah, its magic pow'r is stolen 

In the ardor of the strife. 
With the ever greedy north-wind, 

Who is watching on the earth. 
For its wealth of golden treasures. 

That will give the flow'rs birth. 



126 Hours Improved. 

O, the pain aud bitter anguish 

That this theft inflicts on man! 
How they wrankle in the bosom 

Like an exile's odious ban! 
Yet 'tis well for us to view them 

With composure as they come, 
Aud examine with minuteness, 

Each invader of our home. 
Lest by threats of coming evil, 

We should yield our present J03', 
For the hope of sweeter pleasure, 

la some vain and useless toy. 
As I pause to view the snow-flakes, 

Thoughts come crowding to my mind; 
Thoughts of former times and people, 

Which the present leaves behind. 
In the ages long departed, 

Writers happily agreed. 
To the joys that come with winter, 

Through its rest and revelrv. 



O, the joyous winter season, 

With its ice and frosty air, 
Bringing rest from toils of summer; 

Bringing rest from summer's care. 
See the picture of the fire-place, 

With the family gathered round, 
Happy in their sweet relation, 

While with love their hearts abound. 
They can demonstrate precisel)'. 

What some poet plainly shows; 
That it is a blessed pleasure, 

"There to sit and toast your toes." 
When the evening's work is finished 

And the wood is carried in. 
Children gather round the hearthstone, 

Making merry with their din. 
When the farmer, from his labor, 

vSits him down to rest awhile. 
He observes his sporting children 

With a broad, congenial smile. 



127 



128 Hours Improved. 

Grown-up sons, and grown-up daughters 

Are beside the glowing flame; 
Each one striving with the other 

To excel in every game. 
They are loving-hearted children, 

Full of life and living joy, 
Happy in their youthful pleasure, 

With no sorrow to destroy. 
See how calmly they are waiting. 

For the time so near at hand, 
When their father's pleasing features 

Shall enrich their glowing baud. 
In his presence they are certain 

To enjoy the sweets of home, 
And his love destroys all longing 

In their youthful hearts to roam. 
By his virtues he has bound them 

In the faithful cords of love. 
And they look upon their father 

As a treasure from above. 



Winter. 129 

For he leads them aud instructs them; 

Guides them past the shoals of wrong; 
Helps them with their evening lessons; 

Joins them in the joyous song. 
Ah, how sweet when such reflections 

Come to children far awaj^! 
From those scenes that thrill their bosoms 

With the love that passed away. 
But there is another picture, 

Drawn in lines of deepest woe. 
Where the low and squalid ho\'el 

Gives protection from the snow. 
Want, indeed, has found his kingdom; 

Sin and wickedness abound; 
Joy aud peace have fled forever. 

Leaving purity uncrowned. 
Ragged offsprings; worse than orphans; 

Children of unsightly guile; 
Gather near the dying embers. 

That will warm them for awhile. 



130 Hours Improved. 

On in wretchedness the}^ struggle, 

Through this cold aud bitter world, 
While despair awaits her coming, 

All into her gulf are hurled. 
What had life, with degredation 

So polluted and profane? 
What had it to do with grandeur? 

What had it but toil and pain? 
Can the worse than beasth' human. 

Living on in shameful vice, 
Giving rein to beastly passions, 

Know of love beyond all price? 
What a contrast to the portrait 

Of the home where virtue dwells; 
Where the heart of happy childhood 

In its purest rapture swells. 
It is nice to paint such portraits, 

When the howling winter's storm 
Sweeps around the moaning gables. 

If the house is snug aud warm. 



Wi7iter. 

But there is a transformation, 

When the painter has to bear 
A few drafts of biting north-wind, 

As they cut the softer air. 
As a cold and weary trav'ler, 

With the sharp wind in his face. 
He is want to see a shelter 

By the mountain's rocky base. 
All his dreams of winter's comfort. 

All of winter's great delight. 
In the blasts that howl around him. 

Yield to sleep and fade from sight. 
He has fallen by the wayside. 

With no friendly hand to save; 
In a shroud of icy whiteness. 

He has found a nameless grave. 
In his cold and senseless bosom, 

There is hidden all the woe. 
That was straining at his heartstrings, 

As he staggered through the snow. 



131 



132 Hours Improved. 

There he rests in that deep slumber, 

In which neither smiles nor wrath 
Are aroused by rushing whirlwinds, 

As they sweep across his path. 
Let us leave him in the snow-drift, 

Safe from future care or pain ; 
He has perished on the hillside. 

There his corpse may still remain. 
There are others in the city, 

Who are quaking at the sound 
Of the howling storms of winter 

When their fury gathers round. 
On their hearths there is no fuel, 

While the wind howls at the door; 
Naught to serve a scant protection, 

But the straw upon the floor. 
Public friends have overlooked them, 
And their purse is friendless too; 
Thus the days of bitter coldness, 

They are forced to winter through. 



Winter. 133 

But with patience they endure them; 

Live and hope for better days; 
Look with eagerness for springtime; 

Bear with calmness all delays. 
Lo! The winter ends in springtime, 

When the plants are brought to life; 
And the flowers bloom in beauty, 

Filling fields with fragrance rife. 
Then new forms assume proportions, 

When the frosty blasts have fled. 
And the lily is awakened, 

From reposing on her bed. 
Now I thank thee. Mother Nature, 

For thy goodness unto me; 
I will bless thee for thy favors. 

Through a vast eternity. 



0tl,er T 



ernes, 



The Dutchman and the Gun. 



'OJ 



THE DUTCHMAN AND THE GUN. 

Some years ago, a Germaa friend, 
Was called to help his neighbor butcher; 

They took the gun and started out, 
The dutchman talking like a Kutscher. 

"Gif me dot gun and I vill schlay 
Das pig so tet als donneration; 

I dells you dot I haf no skill, 
But you kan gif die exblauation. 

I nefer dry to kill a pig 
Mit any such a funny mochine. 

You muss lie retty ven I shoot 
To go ad vonce und schlachten ihn." 



136 Hours Improved, 

"All right, my friend, I'll load the gun, 
And tell you how to shoot the critter; 

Just get up close, and aim it true, 
And I am sure that you will hit her." 

But when he loaded up that gun. 
He put no bullet in the muzzle; 

He wished to give his frieud a scare, 
And make it more and more a puzzle. 

He gave the weapon to his friend. 
Who seemed to make a close inspection, 

While holding it before his face. 
To comprehend this brief instruction: 

"Pull back the lock; aim at the pig; 
Then try to pull the trigger quickly; 

And if you do the business right. 
You soon will make him look quite sickly.' 



The Dutchman and the Guii. 137 

The anxious fellow walked around, 
And tried to get a good position; 

He seemed to think, success in this. 
Would b3 a splendid acqiisitiou. 

He took his stand upon a trough 
That lay quite near his thoughtless victim; 

Nor did he for a moment guess 
How much his trusted friend had tricked him. 

He sighted long and carefully, 
Then put his finger on the trigger; 

INIoved by his touch it instantly 
Set all to cutting quite a figure. 

The musket kicked him off the trough, 
For Dave had made the load a crowder; 

The pig went "wee!"aiid started off, 
His head severely burnt by powder. 



138 Hours Im proved. 

"Come, Charley, you have played your game, 
And missed the porker, sure as shooting; 

You should have pulled the trigger hard. 
And sent the bullet through a scooting." 

"O yah, I see, I miss her all, 
Dis time I know not how to take him; 

Der trigger look so ferry schmall 
I vos afraid dot I vould break him." 



Uncle Hiram. 139 

UNCLE HIRAM. 

TO THE BOY WHO SWEARvS. 

O, what an oath for 3'ou to use 

Agaiust your trausieDt soul. 
What right have j-ou to curse at that 

Which meu caunot control? 
A boy should be a gentleman, 

Wherever he is found; 
But he is not who uses oaths, 

With such Satanic sound. 
The fool who gapes along the street, 

With but an ounce of brain. 
Can use an oath with better grace 

Than that which you maintain. 
His footsteps have a shiftless tread; 

His ej'es a vacant stare; 
With scarcely sense enough to walk. 

He knows enough to swear. 



140 Hours Improved. 

What use have oaths among mankitiri? 

They give our mothers pain. 
Do you believe there is no Gorl, 

Whose name you take in vain? 
Whence comes the smallest grain of dust 

That flies along the street? 
Who made the helpless worm we crush 

Beneath our careless feet? 
Who made the earth, the distant sun, 

And all the stars that shine? 
What hand could guide them on through space, 

Unless it were Divine? 
How big is space? Can mortal tell? 

If, with the speed of light, 
W^e travel for ten billion years, 

New stars will greet our sight; 
And rushing on ten billion more 

The Hue we make through space 
Will be a mite to that beyond. 

Whose limits none can trace. 



Uncle Hiram. 141 



Both time and space are infinite. 

We may go on and on, 
Until unnumbered ages pass; 

The end will never come. 
How foolish then for mortal flesh 

To curse and swear at fate; 
When all he says is vain and weak, 

With naught to fear his hate. 
What is weak man that he may call 

His bitter curses down, 
Then sink upon his knees to praj'. 

If Providence should frown? 
His body soon will fall to dust. 

And he will be no more; 
While time and space unending still. 

Are matchless as before. 
Don't curse again, don't be a fool; 

But stand an irpright man; 
And happiness will crown your work, 

If judgment moulds the plan. 



142 Hours hnproved. 

Ten thousand curses right no wrong, 

In anger or in fun; 
An act committed in this world, 

Can never l)e undone. 
Then guard your acts, your looks and speech; 

Be kind to all you meet, 
And you will find that happiness 

Which makes 3'our life complete. 



Uncle Hiram. 143 



UNCLE HIRAM. 

TO THE BOY WHO CHEWS. 

What stain is that upon your lips? 

Come, look into my face, 
And tell me how you learned to chew 

This vampire of the race. 

A curse that robs so many homes ' 

Of certain luxuries; 
And clothes so many men in rags, 

Their appetites to please. 

It costs them twenty cents a week, 
Sometimes a great deal more; 

And in a year of time it takes 
The dollars by the score. 



144 Hours Improved. 

Some men have farms and chew them up, 
Or burn them into smoke; 

And ruin health and happiness 
In bearing such a j'oke. 

They tease some boy to take a chew, 

And laugh at his grimace; 
Not dreaming of the filth}' foe, 

That he is led to face. 

No doubt he feels much like a man. 
When first he takes the weed. 

But after years will bring his curse 
On those who sowed the seed. 

This appetite will lead to drink, 
Then greater dangers come. 

For indigence and pain and death 
Are in a glass of rum. 



U7icle Hiram. 145 



That mau who tempts a hoy in this 
May think that he is smart, 

But in my mind he seem to be 
A model fool at heart. 



How queer that men will fill their mouths 

With such a nasty juice, 
When Nature most indignantly 

Objects to such abuse. 

My mouth must be the cleanest part 

Of my anatomy; 
But some do not regard it so, 

From aught that I can see. 

Then cast the weed away from you. 
And keep your person clean; 

Let no disgusting stains like this 
Be on your lips again. 



146 Hotu's Improved. 

At man's estate the dearest wish 
That comes from native pride, 

May be to win some lad}' fair, 

For yonr own malchkss bride; 

But who would care to kiss your lips 
From which effluvia rise; 

That fill her soul with deep disgust 
Which she cannot disguise. 



Uncle Hiram. 147 

UNCLE HIRAM. 

TO THE BOY WHO DRINKS. 

I wish to speak to 30U, my boy, 

Upon a certain theme, 
Which agitates the public mind, 

And is my private dream. 
"How can I save our boys from drink?" 

In this extremity, 
I need some youthful feet to run 

My errands readily; 
You look like one whom I can trust 

To do some earnest work; 
Your face is stamped with honesty; 

No duty you will shirk. 
A giant evil in our land 

Is running our boys, 
Destroying lives of noble men 

And using them for toys; 



14S Hours Improved. 

That in the tempter's hands may lure 

More noble souls away 
From that true life where virtue reigns 

The monarch of the day. 
Down, down in vice the victims sink, 

Nor often rise again; 
Debased and shunned — I saj', alas, 

For such misguided men! 
Here conus an aged, ruined man. 

With hair as white as suow; 
His feeble limbs must seek support; 

Flis trembling steps are slow; 
He reels from side to side, you see! 

The serpent in his brain. 
Entangles him in subtle coils, 

Which he bewails in vain. 
He falls upon tliat ugly stone! 

Come, we will help him up! 
A broken limb! Poor helpless soul! 

Gray victim of the cup! 



Uncle Hiram. 149 

I know him well, his home is near. 

Come, lend a hand, my friend, 
To bear this luckless, gray old man. 

Where surgeons may attend. 
Now, thank you, sir; this boy and I 

Were standing in the street 
And saw the poor uian fall upon 

The stone beneath his feet. 
He had a fortuue left to him; 

A fortune for a king; 
But craze for drink has brought him low, 

As it is sure to bring, 
Those who indulge their appetites 

In products of the still; 
Which rob a man of wealth and health; 

Of steadiness and skill. 
Last night the rain was falling fast. 

The W'ind with dismal moan. 
Was sweeping down the muddy street, 

I heard a frightful moan. 



150 Hours Improved. 

A moving object in the mire. 

That seemed to be a beast, 
Soon took the shape of this old man, 

Whose groans at last had ceased. 
The sight was pitiful, indeed; 

With hair so long and gray, 
He seemed a mass of filthiness, 

That must have lost its way. 
His wealth, his home, his honor gone; 

His children in disgrace; 
His faithful wife destroyed by shame, 

Too deep for her to face. 
Such shame was hers as none can feel. 

Who have not lived in wealth. 
To fall the victims of foul Rum, 

Which ruins hope and health. 
I saw i't>// take a drink, my boy; 

You knew it was amiss; 
If you persist in such a course. 

At last it leads to this. 



The Soldier Boy. 151 



THE SOLDIER BOY. 

'Twas in a fierce fought battle on the lake, 
The hero of whose darhig deeds I tell, 

Was toiling with his honest hands to break 

The British pow'r, with screaming shot and shell, 

Which spread their martial music o'er the wave, 
And slew a multitude of foes that broke 

The ties of brotherhood to please a knave, 

And tried to place on men the tyrant's yoke; 

On men whose freedom was their highest thought. 

To it they pledged their honors and their lives 
With stolid firmness as they bravely fought; 

Fathers for homes, their children and their wives. 



152 Hours Improved. 

While war and rapine overflowed the land, 
And fllled the hearts of our heroic brave 

With hate, that they more firmly might withstand 
The shock that led to glory or the grave. 

This youthful warrior, — who had long before. 
Left home, friends and kindred far behind — 

With hands and features grim with smoke and gore. 
Fought fiercely, and his comprehensive mind 

Was busy with the movements of the ships. 
Obeying orders that above the sound 

Of strife, rose from the captain's manly lips, 

And served the ranks of Britians to confound. 

They sought to sweep the Union from its base. 
Or crush the spirit of our nation's free. 

And trail the Stars and Stripes in black disgrace, 
Before the king of England's majesty. 



The Soldier Boy. 153 

Strong in the fight was our young soldier's arm, 

For with its streughth was freedom's holy cause. 

Around his life there seemed to be a charm, — 
The wish to win his country's just applause. 

The round shot whistled o'er his manly head; 

They slaughtered his poor comrades everywhere; 
Yet there among the dying and the dead. 

He fought without a thought of yielding there. 

At last a ball aimed surer than the rest 

Struck down his right arm helpless in the fray; 

But he declared that he would do his best, 

Until they won or death should gain the day. 

With one arm hanging useless at his side, 

In vain they urged him to desert his post. 

On this brave act they looked with native pride; 
It made each soldier a revengeful host, 



1 54 Hours Improved, 

Who knew lie battled on the side of right; 

And by its aid on that eventful day 
Our soldiers came off victors in the fight 

And set their ships to anchor in the bay. 

As days and weeks and month successive came 
To bring such patent evils as abound 

In any land where war engenders fame, 

And reckless men with hero's wreaths are crowned. 

Our soldier's heart grew sick of blood and strife; 

Forgot his laurels won upon the lake; 
He dreamed what loyal men must all abhor 

vSince that they loved most dear was held at stake. 

He thought with horror where his life might end 
With constant watchfulness and ceaseless care; 

The countless foes with whom he must contend; 
These filled his soul with horror and despair. 



TJic Soldier Boy. 155 

While quietly at rest within his tent, 

With no one near to cheer his lonely hours, 

He had full time to give his fancies vent 

And view the schemes his terror overpow'rs. 

In thought he saw before him home and friends, 
And one sweet face with innocent blue eyes, 

Whose lifelong happiness on him depends. 
In slumbers of the midnight seem to rise. 

It urged him to renounce a soldier's life; 

To flee again to friends and arts of peace; 
Where he could rest from scenes of bloody strife; 

And his grim service as a soldier cease. 

The wish to be at home again was strong; 

It mastered every other waking thought. 
His dreams were far from evil, yet the wrong 

Which overcame him set all else at naught. 



156 Hours Improved. 

nis mind was active, even as he slept; 

E'en in his dreams he longed to meet once more, 
The friend and loved whose image he had kept. — 

A mother for a hero to adore. 

The vision of his saintly mother came; 

She beckoned him at once to hasten home; 
To leave the field where trumpets sound the fame 

Of countless warriors who have met their doom. 

In slumbers deep, unconscious of his deed. 

He rose and followed where the figure led, 

And when he paused it urged him to proceed; 
Such was the scene on which his fancy fed. 

The wind was rushing through the trees; 

The rain was falling with a heavy splash; 
The air grew cold and piercing by degree; 

The eye was blinded by the lightning's flash. 



The Soldier Boy. i^-j 

He passed the sentry on that stormy night; 

He sought for shelter from the chilling rain; 
Pressed forward till a farm-house was in sight, 

Crept to a barn and sank to rest again. 

But watchful spies were on his luckless track; 

And scarcely had he touched his bed of ha)', 
When in they marched to take the dreamer l)ack 

To where the duties of a soldier lay. 

When he awoke imagine his surprise 

On looking round at everything so strange; 

Not for a moment could his brain surmise 

What magic hand had wrought this wondrous change. 

At evening in his tent he lay asleep. 

But a deserter now he seemed to be; 
His crime would make his loving mother weep, 

And blast his fame throughout eternity. 



158 Hours Improved. 

With paiu he saw he was no longer free , 

And realized what he had done; 
He knew that death would he the penalty, 

In spite of all the glory he had won. 

Then, like a soldier true in battle line, 

Resolved to bravely face the coming doom; 

Although his flight had been without design 

No hand could save him from a coward's tomb. 

They led him to the camp. A martial court 

In haste condemned him to a traitor's death; 

None would believe the truth of his report 

Should he proclaim it with his parting breath. 

Ah, must he die so young, when health and truth 
Were both portrayed upon his brow? 

Could nothing rescue this unhappy youth? 

Would none the truth of his strange claim allow? 



The Soldier Boy. 1 59 

Not one amoug the warriors in that band 

But felt a tremor of remorse and pain, 
To think that ne'er again that youthful hands 

The rights of freemen should maintain. 

With nerves unmoved and head erect, he heard 
And bore his sentence with becoming grace; 

He knew his story sounded most absurd 

Though youth and truth was stamped upon his face. 

But when the guardsman closed the prison door. 
The lock made such a horrid clanging sound. 

That shouts of battle or the cannon's roar. 

When countless enemies had gathered round, 

Ne'er struck such awful terror to his heart; 

It crushed the vestige of his last faint hope, 
And in the darkness gave him such a start 

As he would feel whose trembling soul must cope, 



1 60 Hours Improved. 

With phantoms of the slow decreasing night. 

Weighed down with woe at last he slept, 
Nor waked before the gleams of morning light, 

Dispersed the darkness that his cell had kept. 

"I must have pens and ink, and paper, too; 

My friends must know how soon I am to die. 
O, honest warden, ever kind and true. 

Grant this request, though every oilier you deny. 

When the)- were brought, with rapid hand he wrote 

A letter to his loving mother, dear 
To all the scenes which through his visions float. 

Divesting his young mind of all its fear. 

"My Mother, kind and dear," the letter said, 
"You surely will not own your luckless boy; 

But then remember when your son is dead, 
That he declared his innocence with joy. 



Tke Soldier Boy . i6i 

Ytt, through misfortunes of a bitter war, 

Which long ago engulfed our native laud, 

On fields of strife in which I must deplore 

The deeds of blood that stained my boyish hand. 

I now am sentenced by a martial court. 

To die a coward's death before the blast 

Of those unerring rifles whose reports 

Have oft aroused my spirit in the past, 

And to my heart has sent the crimson tide, 
Renewed with native zeal and loyalty; 

It filled m3' soul with thoughts of martial pride, 
To fight and humble England's royalty. 

But my young heart so yearned for ease and rest, 
From these unwonted scenes of blood and strife. 

That in a dream the face I loved the best. 
Led my poor feet away, and now my life 



1 62 Hours Improved, 

Must end iu sorrow, but no blush of shaine 

Will stain my brow when comrades lead me forth 

To shoot me for a deed in which no blame 
Can rob the conscious spirit of its worth. 

My willful faucy makes me long ouce more 
To see your face before the bitter end; 

Though all is peace on that celestial shore, 
I must regret to leave so true a friend. 

Tomorrow at the early break of day, 

Just as the sunlight paints the eastern sky, 

And wraps the fleecy clouds in colors gay. 
My loyal comrades lead me forth to die. 

If it were on the field I would not care, 

But as it is I feel my pulses thrill; 
A felon's death seems more than I cau l)ear. 

Yet I shall bear it and be loyal still. 



The Soldier Boy. 163 

Dear Mother, liow I love you noue can tell, 
Yet I must leave you iu the world alone; 

My Mother's kiss before our long farewell, 
And I could die without a groau. 

But that sweet kiss I do not hope to gain, 

Which grieves me more than my poor pen can tell; 

It palsies this poor heart of mine with pain. 
But Mother, I must say: A long farewell!" 

When she received this letter from her boy 

The pride and pleasure of her failing years, — 

He, who had always filled her heart with joy, 
She bowed and shed a pious Mother's tears. 

"O, can it be that he must die so 3'oung! 

This boy whose weal has been my constant care? 
Not if the pleadings of a Mother's tongue 

Can show the depth of anguish and despair. 



1 54 Hours Improved. 

My sou! The staff of my advancing age! 

Why sho Id they take my darling's life from me? 
It surely cannot be that in their rage, 

They would forget he fought for libert)'!" 

She paused and bowed upon her trembling hands, 
While sobs of fearful anguish shook her frame. 

The laws of war she well could understand, 

But through it all her boy was not to blame. 

"The pardon of my son I will receive, 

Secure and safe before auother day; 
I'll plead with those whose hearts will not believe 

A dream has led my soldier boy astray." 

vShe met the President in half an hour, ^ 

And on her knees before him pled her case; 

His manly form above her seemed to tower. 
While heartfelt sympathy was in his face. 



The Soldier Boy, 165 

She told her story with a mother's love; 

She showed the lonely life that she must lead, 
And lastly in the name of God above, 

She prayed him to avert the cruel deed. 

"O, give me back my noble boy once more! 

Why will you number him among the dead? 
O, save him now, and when this cruel war is o'er 

Eternal blessings rest upon your head!" 

He yielded to her pleadings, for the truth 

Was evident in every word she said; 
He granted pardon to the hapless youth, 

And yet it might not save him from the dead. 

The wa}^ was rough and distance intervened, 

So that with haste she scarcely would have time 

To reach the camp before the morning beam 

Would flood the earth and sky with light sublime. 



1 66 Hours Improved. 

A horse and chaise she hastily secured, 

Aud ordered that the beast should not be spared; 
The soldier's life alone could be assured, 

By having staunchest equipage prepared. 

A rugged pass through which they were to go, 
Was filled with rocks aud led to great delay; 

With these removed their progress seemed so slow 
That dawn would come and find them far away. 

But still they urged their steed to haste along, 
In hopes that they woul.l not arrive too late 

To check the consummation of a wrong. 

And save the soldier from an awful fate. 

They hastened down the gloomy mountain road, 
Nor did they for a moment pause for breath; 

It seemed that evil spirits were abroad, 

To reap a harvest fraught with woe and death; 



The Soldier Boy. 167 

A narrow path led round a rugged bill, 

With scarcely room 10 drive the chaise with care; 

The darkness was intense. With all his skill 
The driver felt that they must now despair. 

With cautious steps he tried to safely guide 

The horse and chaise. With lantern in his hand 

He moved along the tow'ring mountain side, 
To lead them through the pass to safer land. 

A spur of rock gave way with noisy clink! 

The horse sprang backward in his sudden fright! 
The carriage swayed a moment on the brink, 

Slipped o'er the steep and dropped into the night! 

The day was fast approaching with the sun, 

To tinge the landscape with her bars of gold. 

And hasty preparations had begun 

To drive the spirit from its mortal mould. 



1 63 Hours Improved. 

They led the victim from his prison cell, 

And pity moved the soldiers grim and tall; 

The feelings in his breast no tongue can tell, 
As deadly silence settled over all. 

He stood beside the coffin, bold and calm; 

He asked them not to bind his flashing eyes; 
Requested them to read a sacred psalm; 

When this was done his spirit seemed to rise, 

To seek the Throne of God. His face was pale; 

His muscles straight and strong and motionless; 
He faced the east, nor did his spirit quail 

When he beheld the morning's loveliness. 

The blush of morn was on the eastern sky, 

And beauty seemed to breath from every bud; 

It must be terrible in health to die, 

While hope and youth are bounding in the blood. 



The Soldier Boy. 169 

The faithful soldiers took their choseu staud, 

With rifles read}- for the deadly shot, 
And waited for the captain's clear command, 

To give the coward to. a traitor's lot. 

He raised his hand to give the fatal word, 

When far among the crowd two forms appeared, 

And in the silence there a voice was heard, 

W^hich floated from the distance loud and clear. 

"O, stay your hand before it is too late; 

We have secured the pardon of the brave; 
That soldier there deserves a better fate, 

Thau the dishonor of a felon's grave!" 

They laid the papers on the coffin lid. 

As upward rolled a ringing shout of jo}'; 

And on his breast his Mother's face was hid 
To weep with rapture o'er her fearless boy. 



lyo Hours Improved, 

A loving kiss upon her tear-stained cheek; 

A loving hand on her devoted head; 
While standing there so proud and yet so meek, 

And he was rescued from the silent dead. 



Death. 171 



DEATH. 



A TRIBUTE. 



'In restless boyhood, my desire 
Was fame in poetry and song; 
I stole away from those at home, 
To seek for some secluded place, 
Where I might sit and think and write 
My little sketches undisturbed. 
My pen was busy through the week, 
And on the restful Sabbath day, 
My boyish friends would gather round 
To hear my toilsome product read. 
Their kind applause aroused the hope, 
That I might win the high esteem 
Of other readers, more advanced. 
In learning and renown, than these. 
When I should come to riper age. 
By thus iudalgiag in such dreams, 



172 Hours Improved. 

I fostered that which led to ill, 

And left me less than I would wish 

Myself 10 be among mankind. 

As years passed by and bitterness 

Of strange and tragic kind arose, 

To weigh me down and desolate 

The castles of my early youth. 

My mind conceived the rapturous thought, 

That I was born to rise above 

The plodding indigence that birth 

Bestowed upon my parentage. 

A restless soul was in my breast. 

Which urged me to atlempt the heights 

That lead to fame or let men fall, 

Down, down into the darkest depths 

Of unacknowledged genius. 

The world was dreamland; ever strange 

Were fields and forests to my sight. 

I stood upon a towering peak, 

From whose cold summit I could see. 



Death. 173 

In hazy distance, forest trees 

That seemed like slender blades of grass; 

And yet I knew that when I stood 

Beneath their branches in the shade, 

I thought them matchless in their strength, 

But distance made them look so weak. 

That I no longer wondered how 

The whirling storm could lay them low. 

I looked, and lo! The morning sun 

Arose to send his blessed beams 

Into the drops of crystal dew. 

That flashed the light into my eyes, 

Until the meadows and the woods 

Shone like a mass of priceless gems. 

The beauty of the scene awoke 

Strange feelings in my troubled breast; 

And in my heart I recognized 

A hand of might was in it all. 

Some force gave beauty to the world 

And filled the fields with active life; 



174 Hours Improved. 

While man with wisdom hoarded up, 

From sages who have joassed away 

Is powerless to bring to bear, 

Upon the smallest product of his mind, 

The active principle of life. 

He cannot mould that potent force 

Into the least of his designs. 

His great machines may move with power, 

Yet they are dead; no life is there. 

The little plant that grows and blooms, 

In stagnant pool or garden fair, 

Can give existence to its kind; 

But his machines cannot; instead, 

The offsprings of his toil and pain 

Are instruments that take his life; 

The pond'rous engine crushes him; 

His mills and mines are fraught with death. 

While he, creator of their strength. 

Is weaker than his creatures are. 

Thus from the heights I looked at all 



Death. 175 



And lived not iu the lower world, 
But far above surrounding things. 
The chief and monarch of my will. 
A strauger spirit never lived, 
Than this romantic one of mine; 
It longed to mount up higher still, 
And fretted at this weight of clay, 
Which held it to a lower sphere. 
And furnished it with scanty food, 
To build the structure warily. 
In which the soul could store away, 
The gems of comprehensive thought 
To bring them forth and make secure 
What it desired most on earth. 
Maturer years did bring a change. 
That led my feet to higher paths, 
In which I walked where wisdom sat 
Enthroned as pilot to the truth. 
His short gray beard and beaming eye 
Adorned his shapely head so well, 



176 Hours Improved. 

That all who saw could feel his pow'r. 

'Twas there I learned how small, indeed, 

Were man's most loftj- aspirations; 

I saw how little he could know 

Of what the universe might teach. 

While thus I pondered what I heard. 

And recognized the magnitude 

Of what the world alone contained, 

My mind went forth wiih eagerness 

To grasp what little I could find 

Of value to my future life. 

The halls through which my aimless steps 

Were keeping pace with drifting thoughts 

Seemed far too narrow for my soul 

That longed to take some higher flight. 

One morn with heart oppressed with woe, 

I wandered forth to view the sweet 

Sublimity of earth and sky. 

The joyousness of spring had come; 

Upon the breeze I recognized 



Death. 177 

The perfume of her geutle breath, 

And looking forth ambition rose, 

To long for more than I could hope 

This mortal dust would ever be. 

I saw some evidence of life, 

Made manifest in tin}' plants, 

That grew along my winding path, 

la soil enriched by former growth, 

Which died and fell into decay 

To furnish growth for other life. 

The plant obtains its food supply 

By some strange force which breaks the law 

That binds the molicules of rock. 

And sand, and unseen substances; 

Uniting them in symmetry, 

To link the fibres of new forms. 

Into delightful harmony. 

But one and all must share alike 

The fate that leads them to the end ; 

Death here; death there; and everywhere 



178 Hours Improved, 

Deplored by all, yet noue coulJ liv?, 
Should other structures cease to die. 
Our own existence comes from death; 
That which our bodies have assumed 
Is made from fragments of the tomb 
Where other creatures went to rest. 
While musing in this solemn strain 
I turned into the Chapel Hall, 
Where oft we met to practice songs. 
For entertainments of the week. 
I took my place among the choir. 
With careless mood to join in hymns 
That waked no echo in my heart. 
While standing there, the open door 
Admitted with a band of friends, 
A stately lady, young in years. 
Whose face was, to myself unknown, 
And yet familiar to the rest, 
Who greeted her with welcome voice; 
I saw her glance one moment fall 



Death. 179 



Upon my face inquiringly, 

And thea she turned away to meet 

A throng who had surrounded her. 

»She seemed to be a favored guest, 

Among the friends who flocked around, 

Admired by those who knew her best. 

For dignity and cheerfulness. 

She joined our choir and raised a voice, 

That rang with richest melody. 

Which roused new zeal in all who sang, 

And put fresh life into the song. 

I felt her magic presence, too. 

And set to work more eagerly 

To learn what my indifference 

Had often led me to neglect. 

All else gave way to earnestness 

In va.y attempt to master sound?. 

That led my unskilled mind astray 

Until it lost itself among 

The labarinth of notes and bars. 



i8o Hours Improved, 

Then to my aid this lady came, 

Without the arrogance that skill 

Sometimes assumes when it is called 

To help some poor unfortunate 

To gather up the fragments that 

His ignorance has scattered wide. 

If she had been a flippant girl, 

And giggled at my awkwardness, 

I would have felt such deep disgust 

That nothing could have kept me there. 

She did not laugh, but with a look 

Of deep concern assisted me. 

Her words were comprehensive and 

Exact; Lhey made the points so clear 

I could not fail to understand; 

Yet with such skill she managed this 

That more of credit fell to me 

By far than that which I deserved. 

This was her way of giving help, 

And I was quick to recognize 



Death. i8i 



Her measure of civility. 

This led us to be better friends; 

As days passed ou we ofieu met 

When we were passing to aud fro; 

Her kindly greeting was returned 

With pleasure and a smile of thanks, 

Nor was I likely to forget 

Her gracious magnanimity. 

Some weeks thus passed away, but still 

We seemed to be so far apart 

Because of native reticence. 

That I could scarcely call her friend. 

We met sometimes to practice, too, 

When labor for the day had ceased, 

Between the hours of four and sev'u. 

And she was leader of the choir. 

It seemed a preconcerted thing 

Among the rest, to walk away, 

And leave us to converse awhile. 

'Twas there I learned the depth of soul 



1 82 Hours Improved. 

That crowned a nol)le character. 

Her close discerunieut led to truth, 

And I bestowed my high esteem 

On her superiority. 

We talked of music and we sang, 

Because I felt my need of that 

Which elevates the soul of man, 

And leaves it higher than it was 

Before it knew the pow'r of song, 

While she was pleased to be my guide; 

Most kind yet dignified withal; 

A trait I much admired in her. 

Although thus often left alone, 

I did not dream that it could be 

The slightest thought would cross her mind 

In which my life had interest. 

One day my class-mates stood around 

And one approached me with a smile 

That seemed to glow with earnestness; 

He said: "Dear boy, you must be blind, 



Death. 183 



Or careless, or iudifferent, 

That you should idle precious time 

Away, wheu such a prize is uear; 

She is a jewel, rarely found, 

"Which we have often tried to win 

From that seclusion which she throws 

Around her in society. 

But she has steadily refused. 

And waits for your attending steps 

To see her safely through the crowds 

That gather in the busy street. 

Although her stately modesty 

Would not reveal the fact to you. 

We know it can be nothing else 

That keeps her from society. 

She loves to talk and sing with us. 

And treats our words with courtesy, 

But of us, has no favored one. 

Confusion overspreads her face 

When moved by impulse we have sought 



184 Hours Improved. 

Her side without encouragemeut; 

For if a thought comes to our miuds, 

With hopes of her compauiouship, 

She seems to read it iu our eyes, 

And strives to check the words that rise, 

Iu order to avoid the paiu 

That her refusals give to us 

As well as to her noble self. 

But when we speak in spite of this, 

She answers with such chosen words 

That her dismissals are by far 

More sweet, than w^heu consent has come, 

From lips less modest than her own. 

Thus has she treated everj-one, 

Who has been bold enough to ask. 

You are not bound by other ties, 

And since we all have been denied 

The pleasure of her company, 

You, too, must be as one of us. 

Or win the prize that we have lost." 



Death. 185 



"My friends, I know not what to say 

To such extended speech as this, 

For you astonish me so much. 

And waken thoughts of what has passed 

Between us when we sat alone 

And sang until the eve had come; 

But no encouragement appeared. 

In word or deed, on which to build 

Presumption that such high regard 

Would be bestowed upon myself. 

I do not think that she will pause 

To waste a moment's thought on me; 

And I assure you one and all 

I did not dream of seeking her 

In order to monopolize 

Her elevating faculties; 

Nor have I noticed that she keeps 

Herself aloof from company. 

Nay, more, my friends, I am constrained 

To think your judgment goes astray. 



1 86 Hours Improved, 

If she refuses better men, 

What hope have I? Now, rest assured, 

That she is true to former ties, 

And would not break them for the world." 

"Not so! Not so! Thou infidel! 

We all believe that she but waits 

The kind attendance of your steps, 

Nor will our minds be satisfied 

Until, at least, j'ou shall attempt 

To prove that this is otherwise." 

"Friend Walter, you have made me feel 

That it is sacrilege to speak 

Thus openly of ladies' hearts; 

No man could feel with greater pride. 

That he was honored by her choice, 

If what you say were patent truths; 

But now I pray you say no more. 

Nor shall I think the less of you 

In whom I recognize the germ 

Of greatness if you live aright. 



Death. 187 

And strive to be a noble man." 

This my answer took effect, 

And their withdrawal left behind 

A hopa that what they said was true. 

I could recall a thousand things 

Which I had passed unnoticed, till 

The idle chatter of my friends 

Had turned my wakened thoughts to them. 

The mobile face and drooping eyes. 

And other signs that I was pleased 

To think my presence had aroused 

To indicate her high esteem. 

How much more at his ease one feels 

When in the presence of a friend 

To whom he gives his high regard 

But not supremacy of love. 

Than when he rises face to face 

With her, to whom affection turns 

With that deep current of the soul, 

Which urges men to higher life. 



1 88 Hours Improved. 

His love will oft betray itself 

lu some unconscious act that tells 

More than he cares to have revealed. 

In thoughts like these I foi;nd such food 

As led me more and more to seek 

From her some hopeful evidence, 

That what I heard contained the truth. 

I half believed it, yet I feared 

That I might take a hasty step, 

And fail and fall in my attempt. 

For weeks I fought against the hope 

That rose and would not be repressed. 

What right had I to seek a bride? 

With no employment and no wealth, 

Could I expect to win her love 

From those who were superior, 

In points of talent, wealth and fame? 

And yet my spirit urged me on. 

In spite of that which seemed to bar 

Me from the slightest chance to gain 



Death. 189 



What others failed to make secure. 
Vacation came. The college halls 
No longer echoed to the tread 
Of many feet, for they had gone, 
In haste to their respective homes. 
A few lone stragglers, like myself, 
Still lingered round the grand old place, 
To while away the lonesome days. 
The summer season had appeared, 
And with it such oppressive heat 
As June is almost sure to bring. 
With coat removed and windows raised. 
To get mote coolness from the air, 
I sat with book and fan in hand 
Reflecting on the strange events 
That sometimes bring congenial souls 
So near that they can almost feel 
The hope their spirits entertain, 
But sinks and perishes before 
That happy union is complete. 



iQO Ho2irs Improved. 

Before me stood the maple grove, 

Whose shadows fell upon the lawn, 

Where lay the adjuncts of croquet. 

A cooling breeze came from that shade, 

And gave such sweetness to the place, 

That I was longing for a chance 

To exercise my languid limbs 

By playing with some skillful hand, 

When lo! Beneath their canopy. 

As if my thoughts had called them forth, 

Two ladies dressed in white appeared. 

And what was more to my surprise, 

The object of my thoughts was there; 

More beautiful than she had seemed 

At any time since I had seen 

Her first appearance in the school. 

The play commenced, but aimlessly, 

And once I saw them cast a glance 

At me and whisper to themselves 

A few decisive sentences. 



Death. 

As in resentment of what seemed 
To be my studied selfisbness; 
And I was pleased to understand 
That they had meant it to convey 
An invitation to come forth 
To join them in their evening sport. 
I rose and laid aside my book; 
Prepared my toilet and went down 
To while away an hour or two. 
They greeted me most cordiallj', 
For time passed slowl}' to themselves, 
And they were g^ad of any change. 
The game began. So skillfully 
I managed it, my friend would win 
Without betraying my design. 
She seemed so graceful in the art. 
As triumph glowed upon her face, 
That I was more and more inclined 
To act upon my late advice, 
And try to win her for my own. 



191 



192 Ho urs Improved. 

The summer eveniug settled down 

With more of comfort in the air, 

Than June is sometimes wont to bring, 

And when we ceased to play, her friend 

Excused herself and left us there. 

Our conversation turned to books, 

To music, and artistic skill. 

'Twas then I learned that she would play 

On Tuesday evening at a church 

Quite distant from the College Hall, 

And then I offered my escort. 

Which she accepted graciously. 

And thus our happiness began! 

The Fall and Winter came and fled. 

And while they passed I learned to love, 

With such devotion as few souls 

On earth are destined to enjoy. 

It seemed to me that she returned 

My favors, but uncertainty 

Restrained the words I longed to speak. 



Death. 193 

The time for partiug came at last, 

Aud theu I told her of my love; 

How it had grown by slow degress, 

Until at last it mastered me, 

Aud I uo longer could refrain 

From asking her to be m)- wife. 

She answered a few precious words 

That I have treasured through these years, 
But she requested time to think 
Before her answer would be given; 

'Till Christmas time, almost a year, 

Aud then if we were true at heart, 
She would reply to my request. 
We parted, and my secret joy 
Made everything more beautiful. 
The time passed by and Christmas eve 
Did bring the answer I desired 
And which I felt aud knew would come. 
My college days were not complete, 
But June would see me through at last; 



194 Hours Improved. 

And that should be our wedding day, 
On which I left those stately halls, 
To battle with a stubborn world. 
I did not see her frequently, 
For she no longer studied there. 
But was employed in that great work 
Of training younger minds the way 
To live and move in higher life. 
One Friday evening, bright and clear, 
When she had finished all her work, 
She came to visit with a friend, 
Whose kinduefs she had often praised. 
When we would talk of happy days. 
I met her there, and there I learned 
That she had chosen me that morn. 
When first she entered Chapel Hall, 
To be her lifelong champion, 
Provided that I proved to be 
A worthy object of esteem. 
The more she met and talked with me 



Death. 195 



The greater seemed to grow her love. 
This led us fully to discuss 
The meager plans that we had made 
For our approaching wedding day. 
No man could be more highly blessed 
With happiness than I was then ; 
For as we parted at the gate, 
She put her arms around my neck, 
And fondly pressed her first sweet kiss 
Upon my lips and said "Good Bye." 
A week passed by and as I stood 
Beside a feeble classmate's bed, 
I knew that soon his eyes would close 
Forever on this busy world, 
And then I wondered \i his heart 
Had ever felt such love as mine. 
He died, and we w^ere called to see 
His manly form laid in the tomb. 
Our sorrows could not be repressed 
For he was best beloved of all 



196 Hours Improved. 

The band that gathered in those halls. 

On Wednesday I returned in time 

To look upon another face, 

Which long acquaintance had made dear, 

Before the grave forever closed 

Above that manly countenance. 

And as I gazed again I asked 

li he had been so blessed as I; 

And wondered how her heart must ache 

Whose love had been his sweetest dream. 

God, it must be hard to die ^ 
With happiness like mine in view! 
Next day at noon I hasten up 

To write a letter to my love. 
And as I swiftly passed along 
The open hall to reach my room, 

1 heard a voice that called me back; 
I turned and saw approaching me 
Her cousin Howard, tall and strong, 
Whose hand I grasped with pleasant words, 



Death. 197 

And asked what news he brought from home; 

He seemed afraid to speak to me! 

"Have you bad news?" I cried in haste; 

''The worst neius possible for you,'''' 

He said and turned his face away: 

"My Cousin has been burned to death!" 

"Great God!" 



I scarcely know what happened next; 
I did not ask where, when or how, 
But sought my room and cast myself 
Upon my bed in agony, 
And afterward I learned the truth. 
On Wednesda}' at the hour of three, 
While I was bending o'er the grave 
Of one poor mortal, I had lost 
The dearest being earth could hold. 
For one who loved as I had loved. 
What awful bitterness was in my heart! 



198 Hours Improved. 

Since she was gone; beloved friend! 
Forever gone from mortal sight! 
And I will see her form no more 
With all its grace and lovliuess, 
Among the hosts tbat move along 
The paths my weary feet must tread. 
I cannot see her move about 
The places that we knew so well; 
Where her sweet presence calmed my soul, 
And led my mind to higher thoughts 
Than those that savored of the world. 
Her youthful heart was true as steel, 
And it still seems so very strange 
That she, whose days of usefulness 
Gave promise to such noble work, 
Should perish by the flames that warmed 
The blood which flowed along her veins. 
Now as I walk where once we strolled, 
Uach pleasing each by some new thought. 
That moved our minds to lofty flights. 



Death. 199 



And made us more than common mould. 

By these my hands are taught to write 

This tribute to her memory; 

Well knowing that the hours employed 

In such portrayal of the past 

Will not be spent iu idleness. 

Nor can the reader of these lines 

Bring much of censure up to bear 

Against the weight of pain, which I 

Am left to carry through the world. 

My troubled heart beats fearfully, 

When countless scenes of joy and mirth, 

Where she has reigued the happy queen, 

Come to my soul in its despair. 

So young and full of gracious ways! 

So versed in letters and in art! 

So skillful in so many ways! 

My nerves are shaken by her fall. 

As adoration fills my breast. 

And love is strengthened by each tear, 



200 Hours Improved. 

I see the books her hands prepared! 
I see the landscape they portrayed! 
I see her skill a huudred fold, 
Beyoud my living idol's self, 
And love her iu the narrow grave, 
INIore than my soul had ever dreamed. 
How could she leave me here alone, 
When youth was bounding in her blood. 
To give her all her soul could wish; 
To make complete her joys on eai'th? 
Alas! Her form is laid away, 
In chilling darkness of the grave. 
Her spirit guides my wand'riug feet; 
Its presence seems to touch my heart, 
And point amlntion to its goal; 
vSweet thoughts of her unchanging love, 
Direct the tenor of my wa}', 
And shut the passions of my mind 
In this frail form of living clay. 
Ah, what am I, since she is gone? 



Death. 201 



I do not hope to meet agaiu 
A form as matchless as her own! 
Or hear a voice that thrills my pulse 
With such devotion as I gave 
To all her noble qualities. 
Now, naught remains but Memory. 
How sweet that is; how bitter too, 
Since it reveals my hopelessness. 
Of what avail are ni)^ sweet thoughts. 
Since the}- are hidden in the mind, 
And onh' end in wretchedness? 
Her image, there upon the wall, 
Looks down in pity on my woe; 
A shade of sadness fills her eye. 
How often have I marked that look. 
When she was walking at mj^ side; 
Her face appeared to be so sad 
That it, indeed, foretold her fate. 
Oft in my letters I have said 
That some calamity would come 



202 Hours hnproved. 

To rob us of each other's love. 

How much her life was like a flow'r, 

Which blooms in fragrance for a while, 

Then falls again to Mother Earth, 

To bring new beauties from the soil. 

When meditations came, no doubt, 

To raise her spirit into bliss. 

The fiendish flames encircled her. 

And caught her reason in their flash. 

While Fear supplied her with its wings, 

To fly to an untimely death. 

Her fright was such, that by the way, 

She could not see the element 

That would have saved her from the fiend. 

The ready stream was at her feet. 

But could not give one drop to quench 

The flames that lapped life's blood up. 

One thought of it and she would still 

Be numbered with her friends on earth. 

O, God, hadst Thou inspired that thought, 



Death. 203 



My future life would be one day 
Of boundless thankfulness to Thee! 
Why do I rail at God's neglect, 
And thus forget His constant love? 
With all the mercies that come forth, 
From that unfailing source of power. 
Yet can I keep from feeling pain, 
When I recall the happy scenes 
Which led me to such unselfish love 
As falls to few men here below — 
The love that angels give to men? 
My woe breaks forth with greater force, 
Since Death has claimed her for his own. 
Her earthly pleasures and her pains, 
Were passports to the joys of Heav'n; 
And yet her death, without a word 
To show that she had thoughts of me. 
Is terrible to contemplate. 
I, who had planned a sweet surprise. 
To make her fond heart leap for joy. 



204 Hours Improved. 

I thought of her and wrote to her, 

But when I penned those lines of love 

Her patient soul had passed away. 

My heart was beating at the thought 

That she was happy and content; 

No shadow of her doleful fate 

Disturbed my peaceful rest that night, 

Rut sweetest slumbers touched my brow 

And visions ofher lovely face 

Made glad my heart with happiness. 

While Death had touched her with his hand. 

O vSoul, how could you sleep so sound! 

How could your fancy yield such jo)-. 

When she was in the shroud of Death ! 

Rut thus it is, unconsciously 

We sleep and dream while evils come 

To other hearts as good as ours; 

And grief and pain assail mankind 

In countless forms and rise supreme, 

Above our weak attempts to stay 



Deatli. 205 



The tide of man's fatality, 

Which leads us to the mouldy tomb 

Where all the mortal part of man 

Deca3's aad passes back to dust. 

Thus Death, with pinions poised above, 

Is ever ready to swoop down 

ITpon our unsuspecting heads, 

Or take away our dearest friends 

By means that are too horrible 

For finite minds to comprehend. 

I sometimes wonder why it is, 

That some are blessed with happiness 

From silken cradles to dark graves. 

And nothing came into their lives 

To mar its pleasure or give pain, 

While others meet, at every step, 

Some horror that Ijrings miserj', 

And woe and hopelessness to crush 

The joys which make this life sublime. 

The innocent do not escape, 



2o6 Hours Improved. 

But often are compelled to bear 

The cousequeiice of others' faults. 

If oul}' those who were to blame 

Would suffer for their carelessness, 

Perhaps the world would see a change, 

And reckless men would soon be scarce 

Is it not strange that men will dare 

The toils of Death, and when one falls, 

Another spring to take his place, 

Each feeling confident that he 

Will win, though others may have failed? 

We walk along and at each step 

We crush the life from some frail thing; 

While we, in turn, are set upon 

By Nature in a thousand forms, 

To fall as victims of her might. 

Machines unnumbered, break the ties 

That bind the spirit to the flesh, 

And set it free; nor is this al', 

The storms and passions of mankind 



Death. 207 

Are far more ruinous than these, 

And bring destruction to more lives 

Than all the other forces joined. 

Death is the wages of man's sin! 

And Sin is awful to behold! 

Each day records his horrid deeds; 

Each night is witness to his crimes. 

Where will it end? What will befall 

Poor man in ages yet to come? 

Is crime decreasing in our land, 

And will the race at last be saved 

From all the horrors Death can bring? 

We cannot shun him when he comes, 

Whatever be his dreadful form; 

Though he may come in flames and smoke, 

Or in the whirlwind's dreadful roar; 

Though he may strike us in the midst 

Of jo}', when life is in its prime; 

Or steal upon us in old age. 

When Slumber wraps his chains 



2oS Hours Improved. 

Arouud us in our downy beds. 

What Death can be so horrible, 

As that which strikes us suddeulj', 

When Youth and health have laid their schemes 

For years of pleasure unalloyed? 

Thus had I planned my future life, 

With her whose innocence deserved 

To sink into that calm repose. 

Which angels bring, instead of Death 

That brings such horror and such pain, 

As my beloved endured. 

What thoughts came rushing through her mind 

To touch with woe unspeakable. 

The tender cords of her sweet youth? 

I cannot guess, uor none cau know, 

I'ntil that happy time shall come. 

When minds shall be like open books. 

Which we can read without the screen 

That life has thrown between us here. 

I never shall forget my love! 



Death, 209 

O God! I feel like cursing Thee 

In my despair. How desolate 

My aching heart henceforth will be; 

How can I bow and worship Thee, 

Since Thou did not stretch forth Thy hand 

To save her from such cruel death. 

No, I'll not curse Thee, whom she loved; 

To whom she prayed with fervenc}'. 

But I will think sweet thoughts of her, 

A peerless gem of womanhood; 

Pure as the morning dew that falls 

Upon the flow'rs o'er her grave. 

She sleeps beneath that little mound 

Where naught can raise her from her rest, 

Or call her to the world again. 

How shall I live without the dream 

That held my soul to Mother Earth, 

Since half my spirit fled with hers. 

Into that home of perfect bliss. 

Where death and partings are no more. 



210 Hours hnproved. 

Her fate was terrible, indeed! 
I pray none else may suffer so! 
There is a death so calm and sweet, 
And peaceful when it comes to us, 
That it is welcome to our arms. 
No wasting forms; no long suspense; 
But calmly we may pass away, 
To join with those who went before, 
And wait for us with outstretched arms; 
Then we can say with thankful hearts: 
"Farewell to Earth! Farewell to pain! 
And welcome to the joys of Heaven!" 



THE END. 



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